


Nøkken Bound

by 2014banana



Category: Frozen (2013), The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Siren, Slow Burn, mermaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 54,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2014banana/pseuds/2014banana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after her coronation, Queens Elsa faces a similar storm which claimed the lives of parents…as she resigns herself to her fate a second chance is offered by a nøkken or merman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Save a Queen

_Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle,  
_

_Mere words fail to express the deep sorrow and regret we feel regarding our youngest son's recent actions against not only your Crown, but your own darling sister. We are truly stunned that such a kind, gentle, and intelligent young man could be responsible for such a coup d'état. We pray you and your kingdom may find peace and understanding in your hearts, grow and thrive through the adversity you have faced, and embrace the bright future before you. Not for the sake of Hans, but that genuinely you deserve not to suffer with the heavy weight of hatred clouding your thoughts and actions._

_It is with our own heavy heart that we write to inform you that the ship returning Hans to us faced a storm at sea, resulting in severe damage and the loss of life. We feel obligated to share that Hans was among those that were lost. Word was received that the port-side brig Hans was confined to sustained the brunt of the damage; it was as the ship was secured after the storm the damage was discovered…unfortunately Hans' body was not recovered. It is often said that King Triton has at times a vengeful heart and can be quick to anger; we mention this not to elicit your sympathy or to persuade your thoughts, but to offer peace regarding his fate._

_With Deepest Regards,_

_TM King Anders and Queen Adella of the Southern Isles_

* * *

 

Inked darkness seeped into every corner of Elsa's vision, eyes blurred and stinging with the water and salt that surrounded her. It was the sea she tasted on her lips; the sea which caused the burn in her chest as it deprived her of air. Her limbs grew heavy retaliating against her attempts to coordinate a stroke, desperate to find her way upward through the current and away from the disoriented crush of water around her. It was too dark to ascertain which direction was the surface. If she paused to focus, Elsa would realize that the only sound she could hear was the deafening rush of blood through her veins during these last few moments.

Eventually she calms, exhausted and lost, allowing herself to remain suspended in this watery limbo as she awaits death. She considers this - this resignation, destined fate. No longer is there fear and panic. There had been, it had overtaken her while she was still aboard the ship, prior to being swept away by the wind and waves. The ship likely destroyed in the storm and subsequent explosion. The icy caress of the sea does not chill her, but rather enticed a sense of peace.

_Papa…Mama…_

Elsa feels a presence, as if they are with her, providing comfort and reassurance that this would be okay. She is to be claimed by the sea and join eternally with them.

The tightness and burning in her chest intensifies. Sounds in her ears play tricks on her, the currents enveloping her take on a melody of their own - irresistible and calling to her. She feels as if she moves purposely - twisting and turning almost in time to the sounds like a strange dance, her hair loose and floating around her like a halo to frame her. Elsa slips towards unconsciousness, succumbing to her fate, when she feels a warmth envelop her.

She would later recall a sense of something – no. Someone. A large hand brushing hair from her face, a strong arm circling her waist and pulling her flush against something firm and safe. A sense of security and protection she had not felt since she was a small child. Elsa hears songs; they grow louder. Calling her by name, a magic and voice familiar and filling her ears. The magic calls to her offering reassurance that she would be kept safe, her every desire fulfilled. Lovely words, impossible promises to a desperate woman whispered from the waves.

Then there is a gentle pressure on her lips, like a lover's first kiss, tentative and sweet. Then a second, lingering, coaxing. With the third comes a large hand tangling fingers into her hair to hold her in place as a gentle coaxing tongue encourages her to receive more. She gasps, allowing entrance and matching the surge with hunger. At once she feels a maddening rush of comfort and relief from the pains of drowning, as well as an overwhelming sense of desire and need crash over her. A magic snatching her from death and claiming her, now _his_. 

 


	2. Unintended Consequences

The dawn's light is not yet claiming the horizon, the last of the night-sky still inked, so they are hidden from any eyes who may be watching the sea.

Hans slows his pace as the rocky inlet that leads to the Arendelle fjord comes into view, in no real rush if he's to be honest with himself. Elsa's cool limp body is clutched tightly to his bare chest, her head nestled under his chin and up out of the water as the white-capped waves of the cold sea bite at him. Her shallow, steady breath is tickling, reassuringly, at his flesh. He is under the presumption the cold doesn't bother her. The same cannot exactly be said about him. Despite his ability to tolerate iced waters, thicker skin of a merman offering him protection, he'd prefer to be somewhere warmer.

The swim isn't strenuous, even in this strange position - Elsa's as lithe as he remembers her to be a lifetime ago, having carried her unconscious in his arms from the North Mountain to return her to her castle during her _Eternal Winter_ \- the weight of her no trouble at all to manage.

She's still breathtakingly beautiful, even half-drowned and flirting with death. He's not understood the gossip that makes it way under the sea regarding her lack of suitors, simply being Queen makes her preferable - combine with her beauty and dangerous magic, she's practically irresistible to most men; although it is entirely conceivable she's been excessively cautious and _cold_ regarding marriage due to his prior _"romance"_ with her sister.

A jolting thought strikes at him, lightning fast and unstoppable.

_Why return her to Arendelle? She's mine now._

It is something unnamed, something like _songs_ call him to _claim her as his prize, a treasure_. It is without a single word maddening desire races through him, _songs,_ sending magic irrationally surging to control him - leaving him torn between remaining sane or succumbing to the insanity.

The overwhelming desire passes as suddenly as it comes - Hans shaking it off with a low growl.

_Something isn't right._

Hans spares a glance at her again, tempts the _strange urges_ with a chaste press of his lips to her temple.

The _songs_ don't return.

Nothing.

_A siren's curse?_

Hans wasn't sure if he possessed the magic necessary to save Elsa – _the siren's_ _breath that could breathe life into a human._ Technically he was part merman; a siren, thanks to his mother - Adella, one of the seven daughters of King Triton. Or so he had rationalized in the frantic moments that followed finding Elsa practically dead, no hope of survival or rescue from the responders who had taken to the small boats circling above the currents. He couldn't pull her to the surface then, back up into the air he no longer needed; he'd be seen and the secrets of an aquatic kingdom revealed. Besides, she was likely too far gone, already.

It was in that frantic moment he made a decision. One that Hans was certain was too ridiculous to even consider - he couldn't _actually_ save her by giving her his breath. However, he'd not be compelled to justify himself for acting on such a foolish notion and absurdity won out.

He kissed her.

Imagine his pleasant surprise when it actually worked. He saved her life after having once attempted to take it.

Hans grits his teeth and focuses, ahead – rational thought firmly restored. The dark rocks jutting out of the waves and upwards to the heavens are something he'll never forget the sight of. _This fjord._ The fjord the newly minted Queen Elsa of Arendelle had frozen solid and fled across – setting off a series of events that he'd forever be left reliving in his mind with the scaffolding of _what ifs_ holding a more successful ending. The last fjord he saw all those years ago, as he sailed away, humiliated and disgraced and _angry._

(" _Nothing but a spoiled brat who's over-inflated sense of entitlement needs to be stripped away,"_ _his Grandfather had said, threateningly. His trident glowed with his words._

_Hans had laughed. Actually laughed (for how could the situation get any worse?), at the ancient King, "Go back to your throne, old man. Let us spineless, savage, harpooning fish eaters," Hans spat, "incapable of any feeling, be."_

_Mouthing-off to the great and powerful Sea-King was surprisingly stupid, he'd admit later. However, it was what got Hans here and freed from the brig of the French ship, wood splintered and metal twisted by wind and waves and Hans practically drowned, until King Triton finally granted him his fin._

_King Triton has been known to be vengeful at times._

_Of all Hans' family, his Grandfather was the one whom he could count on to somehow support him. He admired his grandfather, his entire life he strived to not just meet, but to exceed his expectations, craving his pride and attention. And unfortunately, his Grandfather was the only family member who had been known to unleash a temper the like of which most men had never seen and lived to tell the tale. This temper generally reared its ugly head when those King Triton loved failed to meet his expectations or were somehow wronged._

_The merman had a true flair for the dramatics, and the trident helped._

_Hans was now living under HIS OCEAN and obeying HIS RULES. Hans had thrived under his Grandfather's influence - becoming a better man, since he last held Arendelle's icy-sorceress in his arms. He'd embraced his punishment, not a thought to returning to his old life aside from the occasional longing for a cup of hot tea or the warmth of the sun on his skin.)_

But this is neither here nor there, truthfully. At present the merman has a more pressing problem.

_Her lips -_ Hans has been unable to erase the sensation they had left on his. It was as if she'd branded him: marked him with an overwhelming lust and desire that overtook him in those moments he gave her his breath. He was helpless to control the magic that crashed over him, essentially sealing her fate. And perhaps his, he feared.

Hans knew very little about the _siren's curse_. He prided himself on being pragmatic, logical. He needed facts, evidence to support his actions. Not a collection of fictional tales...

He'd of course read the Greek myths, the centuries old classics. They were echoed in the stories told by the old sailors while he was commanding a small fleet in his former life – the tales were all the same. Baleful yet exquisitely gorgeous creatures with voices like angels, who lure ships of men to treacherously dangerous waters, bewitching them with lust and promises of their hearts desires, right to their deaths.

_Rubbish._

If only they knew of his Queen Mother's true identify, he mused. He glanced down at glistening scales covering what were once his legs. It would seem that all the royal houses have their dark secrets regarding sorcery.

Hans lays Elsa as high up on the rocky shore as he can, remaining close to the waves and greedily pocketing the few moments he can with her; a few moments becoming far longer as the sun rises. Sand sticks to his flesh, irritatingly, seafoam blanketing his fin and flirting with her wet gown. It all feels _so_ surreal, Elsa curling closer to him as a lover would, seeking his comfort as he lays beside her. He's propped up on an elbow watching her. He finds himself longing for _something more_. His thoughts are lost once again, spiraling in every which direction, imagining a past lived better and a future more satisfying, Elsa somewhere in all of it. Hans strokes his fingers gently through the fringe of hair that clings to her temple. Suddenly the _songs_ surge once more, challenging his self-restraint - _take her, claim her as she is his now._ He finally realizes the sun is now brightly breaking through clouds and knows he must end this nonsense; leave her before his last shred of sanity is lost.

Hans dares to speak, drops his mouth to Elsa's ear. "Farewell, my Queen."

Hans still has hold of his mind but he boldly brushes his lips to hers; however he feel it slip away as she responds, mouth sweet and perfect and moving against his. She grows stronger as the songs do, within moments her trembling fingers are gripping his flesh, clinging to him with needy desperation. It is Elsa who pushes him over the edge of restraint with a soft sigh, a breath broken neatly in half that rips through him to burn. _She_ deepens the kiss, then gasps for air – having just remembered to breathe. Elsa's eyes flutter open widely, fleetingly meeting his, then squinting shut tightly in the painful sunlight.

_"Hans?"_ Elsa rasps hoarsely.

It is _his name_ escaping _her lips_ that overwhelms him, the _siren's magic_ surging such that Hans is no longer able to resist. Hans hauls Elsa to him, and into his lap. He falls on her as if presented a feast; crushing her into his chest, fearful of her escape. Hans fails to register the confusion that dances fleetingly across her face, fails to hear the questioning sound she makes as she catches sight of the shimmering scales that make up his olive green fin. All he is aware of is the maddening songs encouraging this loss of control; as is Elsa after just heartbeat of confusion, seemingly as desperate for him as he is for her.

Hans startles at the sound of hounds barking nearby, on the search for survivors of the shipwreck, no doubt. The _songs_ clear instantly from his mind; he regains control of himself. He lays Elsa carefully down in the sand, soft sounds of protest escaping from her as he fleetingly presses his lips to hers - _just one more taste -_ and splashes back into the sea.


	3. The Siren's Curse

_Wait…no…please._

Elsa watches with heavily lidded eyes and a mind fogged with frantic desire as her savior disappears - shimmering olive green tail submerging under the white-capped waves before her. She is unable to stop the swirling storm of emotion inside, only escalating as he slips away.

_Stop!_

She knows she's been brought back from the brink of death, can still feel the icy pull of her own mortality inside her, but Elsa would face it all again to just to have _him_. Although she's no earthly idea who he is, her mind quickly questions if he might be a nøkken who has nefariously taken the shape of Prince Hans, beautiful and dangerous.

_Why did he save me? Why is he leaving me?_

Soft _songs,_ just past her consciousness call her to follow him into the sea – to plunge back into the deep abyss that had just claimed her, no sense of danger or threat despite what she's just endured. She would, wander the call of this unknown force, if she possessed the strength to command her body once more. Instead Elsa finds herself helpless, even her voice refuses to cooperate when she tries to call out for her nøkken.

It's like a dream; one that the lucidity of reality is known yet one is incapable of intervening. A strange heat and sense of arousal surges through her, originating from every point on her skin that had been anointed through contact with the bare flesh of her savior; pooling deep in her abdomen and extending down to her toes like a force of magic. There is a terrible ache in her chest, almost worse than drowning - as if her heart has been stolen from her.

_Or a hearts heavy burden…_

Elsa feels consciousness slip away just as she becomes aware of the sound of boots heavy upon the rocky shore, deep voices bellowing as hounds bay, and desperate cries from Anna –

" _Elsa!_ OH MY GOODNESS! SHE'S ALIVE!" Anna exclaims as she slides to Elsa's side, small rocks and sand shifting to accommodate her presence while she grabs for Elsa's hand and kisses her cheeks, tears streamed down her face.

" _Oh, Elsa…_ that was the most horrible past few hours I have ever lived. I thought you were gone - I thought you were really gone and I feared you had died and I never got to tell you how much I love you because I really love you, and I never got to tell you how much you mean to me and…" Anna gasps, lightheaded having forgotten to take a breath, "…that was the world's WORST birthday. Am I right!? Explosives and highly flammable things on a wooden boat?! Doesn't the Royal Navy know that is not a good combination?! But _OH MY_ , you are here and _ALIVE_ and I don't ever want to have another floating birthday party again because… "

Anna trails off as she notices Elsa staring out at the sea and not looking at her. "Elsa, can you hear me?"

Elsa only blinks, as laborious as the movement is.

"Physician!" Anna yells, drawing Elsa into her arms. "Good _Lord,_ you are _freezing."_ Anna mumbles before shouting for a physician once more.

"The sea," Elsa manages finally, voice thick with anguish and desperation, "He's out there. _I need him._ _please_ …"

Anna attempts to calm her, smoothing gentle fingers over Elsa's forehead. "I'm here and we're going to get you home – safe."

 _"Hans,"_ Elsa breathes. The last coherent thought Elsa has as she lets herself go is that Anna sounds terrible as she shouts once more for a doctor with heart-wrenching fear.

* * *

 

 _Everything's better down where it's wetter_ was the most asinine statement to describe Hans' underwater prison, in the beginning.

There were certain strict _conditions_ to Hans' punishment for his actions at the time of Queen Elsa of Arendelle's coronation, expectations and boundaries set forth in the agreement between his parents and his grandfather that he was to abide by or risk confinement to a prison cell or further punishment. His time was not to be spent enjoying a tropical, under-the-sea vacation, and that was abundantly clear. It was to be making retribution to Arendelle, to Queen Elsa and Princess Anna for his selfish and malicious actions; defending and protecting what he once tried to take for himself.

Excitement, adventure, danger lurking behind every door…that is if one has the luxury of exploring the ocean, or at least more than the sea that lies between Arendelle, the Southern Isles, and King Triton's castle.

Occasionally Corona.

Hans had been put in charge of patrolling the waterways in and out of the Arendelle fjords, which kept him incredibly busy. Guarding and protecting not just Arendelle's assets, but the sea-life below. _"You will spend your time protecting what you once tried to take. One mistake, and grandson or not, I will destroy you, too",_ his grandfather had threatened, blue eyes turned red as the trident in his hand glowed as well.

Hans _excelled_ at his task – his brilliant mind and keen sense of strategy and logistics finally being challenged in a way he never realized he craved. King Triton grew pleased, exceedingly proud of his youngest grandson who had risen above adversity, and thus over the years, most of these _conditions_ of his punishment had become lax, or repealed entirely. Hans was eventually provided his own private rooms in the castle, eventually merited not just invitations to formal functions, but seating above what should have been his rank at feasts. He was eventually allowed to pursue courtship among the beautiful and highly desired mermaids of King Triton's court (he began to cultivate a bit of a reputation as time went on, certain young mermaids being quite taken with him, offering him their heart to discover he had no intention of returning it).

Thus became his new life.

It had become _pleasant._

Except for two conditions: contact between Hans and the surface world was strictly forbidden (necessary to maintain the illusion of his death at sea) and he was to be supervised (to ensure that Hans abided by the first condition). But even the supervision had evolved from teams of guards - merman companions, generally some intimidating _goon,_ to a less traditional ones, ones who could more easily go unseen or be less intrusive in Hans' day-to-day life, until he only required supervision while patrolling alone, as he was the previous evening. Joined by a single companion.

 _Fisk._ A fish. (Hans actually really liked the fellow, a fast friendship had developed as odd as that sounds – friends with a _fish,_ meant to guard him, a reminder of his past _._ )

So it would have been foolish of Hans to think that what had occurred with Arendelle's flag ship, and his subsequent intervention in what would have been Elsa's demise, would go unnoticed, or somehow _not_ make it back to King Triton.

Hans suspected the reason he had privacy with Elsa during his trip to return her to the shore of Arendelle was not due to Fisk being unable to keep up with his quicker pace, but rather due to the fact Fisk was reporting back, ensuring the news of the accident made it back to the sea king's court (as subsequent talk probably spreading like wildfire throughout). Hans was unsure what to think of that, unsure if his actions would hold positive favor with King Triton – unsure how they would not, trying to untangle his mind enough to articulate himself about it all. Hans was uncharacteristically _quiet_ as he returned to water, finding Fisk waiting for him. And Hans remained quiet as they began their swim back.

Of course, Fisk noticed.

(Fisk, Hans thinks wearily, _notices everything_. The very reason the haddock was chosen by Hans' grandfather to become his _constant_ companion.)

They swim in awkward silence for quite some time before Hans can no longer stand it, the tension only adding to the uneasiness settling upon him.

"Go ahead." Hans finally sighs. Fisk contemplates Hans instead. Hans resorts to an impertinent gesture to prompt him.

"Hans," Fisk says with mild amusement, "Care to explain what all that was back there?"

“What?” Hans says playing daft, “The accident? I suspect there was an explosion in the storm. Likely caused by improper storage of munitions and supplies. Most unfortunate.”

Fisk snorts. “Fine. Then the part after that.”

"I would have to understand it myself, first, to give any plausible explanation. Or at least one with any value." Hans gives a faint smile.

There was something satisfying about Fisk's silence following Hans' admission of not knowing what the _deuce_ is going on.

"How about just that last part, back on the shore." Fisk finally says. "Kissing that poor woman like her life depended on it."

"It might have." Hans says. Elsa did seem to become _stronger_ for it, responding to the siren's magic.

"Being a touch dramatic, aren't you?"

Hans had already decided kissing the Snow Queen of Arendelle with reckless abandonment as they laid upon the rocky shore of her fjord was not the wisest thing he had done recently, but had been unable to resist the surge of _magic_ that torn at him, calling him to her in that moment. She seemed to be a very eager participant as her strength returned. He wonders what would have occurred if they had not been so rudely interrupted by a search party. Hans shakes that thought off.

Hans shrugs slightly. He keeps his expression carefully indifferent, "I gave her my breath."

"You're not a siren." Fisk says, finally unable to suppress his laughter. "I distinctly remember hearing you were born with _legs."_

The truth was a bit absurd, even to Hans. But as he was unsure how else to explain it, Hans simply gives a hum of agreement. Fisk seems to be waiting for further clarification, staring at Hans in that odd way he has.

"How else would you explain the fact she was essentially _dead,_ then wasn't?" Hans asks. "You were there, you saw it happen."

Fisk swims ahead of Hans, turning abruptly to halt Hans and look him in the eye. "You're serious?"

"Quite." Hans says matter-of-factly.

"So you’re saying you enchanted her? Have you any idea the punishment for using the siren's magic?" Fisk grunts after studying Hans for some time, " _Death, Hans._ Merpeople who practice it are _executed_. Of all the irresponsible, idiotic –“

Hans shakes his head, "I don't understand what happened – I. I just know she's alive, and she's now safe. I owed that much to her."

"You didn't owe anything to her.” Fisk says, voice almost a growl, “We don’t have responsibility for the land-lovers when they take to the sea - they do so at their own risk! She was just an unfortunate victim of a disaster."

Hans scoffs. Fisk says, "It's terrible, but it is the way of the sea – we can't save everyone."

Hans' disbelief was palpable, "You've no idea, do you?"

Fisk sighs, "That you've lost your mind? You’ve gone soft?"

"She," Hans pauses as he feels a faint rush of magic once more as he suddenly recalls how she felt in his arms, the taste of her mouth, almost drunk on the vivid memory. " _She_ is Queen Elsa of Arendelle." He clenches his fists tightly, fingernails digging into the meat of his palms as he attempts to contain the swirl of emotion that passes as quickly as it came.

Horror flickers across Fisk’s eyes, “You mean. The one…”

“Yes.”

"Wait until your Grandfather hears about this – and he will have by now. He's not going to like it." Fisk says, "Not one little bit."

"I don't like it either, if that helps at all." Hans turns away, continues his swim back to the castle. "And I am done talking about."

Hans could feel the magic trying to pull him back to the fjord, back to her. The steadily increasing persistence of his thoughts towards her, he had to admit, was somewhat alarming.

 _Sleep. I just need some sleep, and I will be fine,_ Hans thought wearily.

It would be a day later, a restful night's sleep, and things were getting _worse._ Having been summoned to King Triton first thing upon rising didn't help, Hans trying to explain the accident – how he found Arendelle's Queen and the madness he was now feeling.

"...but grandfather, I gave her my breath. I can no longer control the sun rising than my desire for her. And if I understand the gossip flying around this place, neither can she." Hans says. He feels almost frantic as he paces before his Grandfather, gesturing with restless hands that won’t still as he speaks. "She was essentially _dead_ ; I couldn't let that happen. I am not the man I once was - I seek no throne, nor power, nor title. I only did what was right.”

Hans spares a glance at King Triton, catches the shift in his expression to indifference. Hans hates himself for the passion in his tone as he presses on, trying to silence that look, “And before you say that her death would be seen as _one less human to worry about_ , the moment you put me on patrol and in charge of ensuring the safety of her fjord and her ports she became the most important human to me outside of our family. She is my responsibility to worry about."

_Fisk was right. Word traveled fast, rumors flying that Hans enchanted the Arendelle Queen like sirens from prior centuries..._

King Triton had explicitly forbid such actions from the time he ascended to the throne, thus those who utilized this power were quickly _handled._ The courtiers of his court clearly expected a tantalizing scandal to erupt in the wake of the news, King Triton’s beloved youngest grandson essentially sentencing himself to death.

"Hans," King Triton sighs. Hans recognizes that tone – it is the same one he uses with the little ones when he’s grown weary of their giggles and games, "You couldn't have possibly enchanted her. You were born human. You are in the form of a merman because of my magic. I can't explain logically what happened, but I know you're no siren."

"You can't say…" Hans tries.

"NO. You couldn't possibly possess the magic necessary." King Triton says firmly, anger edging his words. "And even if you had cursed her, you wouldn't be feeling it. So whatever it is you are experiencing, these hormones, it will fade over time. It's nothing real." He shifts on his throne, waving a dismissive hand at Hans.

Hans groans, "Sir, no. With all due respect, I will not pretend that something's not going on. That I'm not somehow _bound_ to her though some sort of magical curse. And what about her? She is probably confused, petrified right now, because of your magic."

Hans knows that it is outrageous to argue with him, but if there is any hope in helping Elsa (and himself), to disperse this magic, this _curse -_ King Triton has to believe him.

"Not my magic, Hans." King Triton was now doing a poor job at hiding his irritation, "No, this was your mess. AGAIN. And I refuse to interfere..." He stops himself, sparing a glance at the courtiers who had made a ready audience. Triton draws a slow breath, softening his expression. "Like I said, this will fade, whatever this is."

Hans gestures, mostly to himself, "This will fade? This feeling that I will be burned alive if I am not near her?"

Somewhere behind him Hans can hear Fisk make some remark about _being overly dramatic._ The chatter from around the throne room escalates, Hans just now realizing how many had managed to gather.

_Great._

The King considers Hans for a moment before declaring softly, "I will indulge you, Hans. You may visit her, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, daily from her fjord, perhaps find relief from _being bound_."

Hans can hear the humor in his grandfather's tone, faint snickers from the courtiers gathered, but as it grants him the first sliver of hope to find some sort of _peace,_ Hans is not going to protest or demand he be taken seriously. King Triton continues, "But you are not to have any contact with any human on the surface...including her. Agreed?"

Disbelief of what occurred was not the response Hans expected.

"As you wish." Hans replies carefully, with a respectful nod. "Thank you. I shall make leave for the Arendelle fjord immediately."

Hans has no intention of avoiding contact with Elsa, even beginning to contemplate the likelihood of managing to call her to him once more. Perhaps simply being with her, near her like his grandfather has suggested, will end the madness that seems to be claiming him slowly.

As he passes Fisk, Hans directs him to make arrangements to stay in the fjord rather than in the castle.

Fisk nods, "You're going to become troublesome now, aren't you?"

They pass through the maze of halls silently before Hans says, "Define troublesome. We're simply taking a little trip to Arendelle."

"I have had nothing but praise for you since I began working with you. You've grown into an amazing leader down here and I know your Grandfather has been so proud."

"Thank you."

"You have other options, you know. Why don't you just have a little tryst with one of those beautiful mermaids you've stolen hearts from to distract yourself?"

Hans suspects that as time goes on, nothing will truly distract him. Hans frowns, "I. I need Elsa. This stupid _curse_ is driving me mad."

Fisk appears skeptical of the _curse_ part.

"She is beautiful," Fisk says instead, "But there are lots of beautiful ones here."

"It is not simply beauty…" Hans says.

"You can't sell that to me, Hans. I know you.” Fisk laughs, “You pick the beautiful ones, not just because you like pretty things – and you do – but because it takes a certain kind of smug self-confidence to hand over your heart to someone and expect to get it back undamaged."

_Hans does have a bit of a reputation in King Triton's court._

Hans realizes he needs to change tact.

"Only the pretty ones have that sort of conviction?" Hans manages with a faint smirk, "Isn't that what you've said?"

Fisk has always seemed to have a rather colorful opinion about Hans' romantic interludes, something Hans has found amusing.

"And there were plenty of them back there watching you suffer so _artfully."_

"It's not an act, Fisk." Hans says, truthfully somewhat offended. Although Hans knows what Fisk is trying to do, trying to encourage him to do the right thing by staying put in the castle, seek comfort in the arms of some mermaid (after all, Hans is a prize, his affections and favor highly sought after – something he could of never imagined in his former life). "And no. I don't want some silly mermaid raised on fairy stories, thinking that breaking curses is easy and painless, thinking that everyone with a pretty face gets a happy ending."

"They are misled by their vanity," Fisk says. "As are you."

"Something like that." Hans grins at Fisk's teasing, "Although I'm likely twice as vain, and just as pretty as them, but I don't go around handing my heart out and expecting to get it back."

Hans mocking words have some truth to them, he fears, and suspects he might have inadvertently given his heart to Elsa when he gave her his breath, leaving him now without one and going mad, and that was part of the problem.

Fisk follows Hans out into the courtyard where Hans pauses to look over at his constant companion. "I appreciate your advice, but you are not going to convince me that nothing is going on, and this will just fade. And I suspect this doesn't just affect me, but Queen Elsa of Arendelle, who has a kingdom to rule and a life to live that shouldn't involve being bound to me by some siren's curse."

"So you are going to be troublesome."

"I agree with my grandfather that this is my mess," Hans says, refusing to confirm Fisk's accusation. "So I have to find a way to break the bond. In the meantime, if staying near her will relieve some of the strain she feels, then that is what I will do."


	4. Not Just Dreaming

It's a pale sliver in the pre-dawn sky, a waning crescent Hans hasn't seen in years. He had spent many nights gazing up at the moon from the deck of a ship when he commanded a fleet, the infinite blanket of constellations his tool for navigation. In his youth he'd secretly made wishes on shooting stars when he'd look out his bedroom window - wishes for his own horse or to make his first trip to another kingdom. Back then, when things were far simpler, he never really stopped to realize how beautiful the night sky was but rather took gazing upon it for granted. Never put much thought into how dynamic it all was. Never realized how the moon can look like a tilted smile.

(Presently, it smiles down at him like he's a _fool._ )

Hans thinks distantly - _it mocks me._

Hans lies silent and still, the tide lulling him peacefully upon _her_ beach, waves slopping gently against his fin. He's gazing up at the slowly brightening night sky as it starts to paint the shore of Elsa's fjord in shaded shadows, awakening the beach. The one he left her upon days ago. He hasn't seen her since.

Fisk had spoken with the seabirds, asked for any news of the Queen. Eventually there was a nosey kittiwake who managed to find the Queen's bedchamber window, yesterday, finally confirming that Elsa was indeed alive – being well cared for and doted upon. Hans had figured that much. He assumed the magic wouldn't be pulling him to someone who wasn't there.

 _She's sleeping soundly_ , _the kittiwake said kindly._

At least someone was. He's frustrated and exhausted. Worried and _pining_ for her.

_Worried._

_Pining._

Hans had never felt an iota longing or true desire for a woman before, never felt this unsettled fear of the unknown, and he's baffled as to how to manage it. Even Fisk had given up on him tonight, declaring Hans had officially lost his marbles and it was just too pathetic to watch any longer. Fisk left hours ago to sleep, something that Hans has found just as elusive as Elsa.

_Why won't she come – seek me out?_

If he could just see her, talk to her, his mind might clear enough, Hans thinks. Enough to understand if she's as afflicted as he is, enough to think through how to end the curse. To stop this.

_"If I could give her my breath, restore life to her, then I must be able to call her to me," Hans had said. Fisk insisted that was nonsense. Granted, Hans lacked any sort of knowledge about such magic; and he couldn't very well just ask someone - these sorts of evils were no longer kept in records (he'd checked) – besides, how nefarious it would seem to be inquiring about such things?_

Hans starts singing again. Softly, under his breath – tones only audible when under the water, beneath the raging crash of waves, amongst those who inhabit the sea. It builds stronger, an ancient tongue he learned begrudgingly in his youth. He's sung all sorts of songs over the past few days, anything he can remember.

He's running out of songs.

Elsa still hasn't come to him.

This time he sings a lullaby; one he recalls his mother singing to nieces and nephews as newborns – she sang to all her children and grandchildren to hush them to sleep. He imagines holding Elsa as he sings; instantly he can feel her weight like a phantom in his arms, pressing warm to him, completing him.

His eyes fly open.

Of course she's not there. She never is – this isn't the first time she's haunted him over the past few days.

He pauses, huffs at his foolishness before continuing his mother's lullaby – a melody sung in a tongue unlike anything a human has ever heard. Hans reasons that from the lips of a siren, while in the form of a merman, the song may be _magic._ And if so, if it is, the breeze will carry his song gently into the air and perhaps it will fall upon the one who he has enchanted. And she will _come._

(Or fall asleep. He realizes he is singing a lullaby.)

Hans stops.

He has imagined the scenario in his mind's eye enough now, the daydream lulling him to sleep. She comes to him. She completes him. His eyes close – and he sleeps.

.

.

.

Hans startles awake in somewhat of a panic at the sound of glass smashing onto rocks.

"What the hell?" says an old voice, male and intoxicated by the sound of the syllables blurring into each other, feet stumbling harshly in the rocks.

Hans curses silently at himself for having been so careless as to doze off on the shore of the Arendelle fjord. He darts upright, not looking back, instead disappearing into the waves that had begun to recede before he can catch the rest of the protests and vulgarities that fly from the man's mouth.

* * *

Elsa slips in and out of consciousness, she's cognizant of that much, mind filled with strange images and fragmented dreams of the darkness of waves and water, of shimmering scales, bright – _illuminous_. Of a man – a creature – a nøkken so beautiful she aches for him, having stolen his breath greedily when offered for her own. Elsa dreams he's looking for her, calling to her, _songs_ lulling her back to him. She dreams of Prince Hans Westergård, of the Southern Isles, her mind supplying a name to the nøkken but not the man she knew of. He's _different,_ and with an intensity lacking any rational explanation he's _perfect_ and hers – wrapping her gently into his arms he completes her - her light. Her life. There are images she can't make sense of but cause her skin to _sing,_ arousal racing with urgency, blood coursing hot in her veins. She's never experienced such intimacy - it is new, and she never wants it to end. There is a child in these dreams; a babe held in his arms. Hans' emerald eyes wet and filled with adoration, _"Say hello to him. The future King of Arendelle."_ He sings soft lullabies to their babe, swaddled, fresh and new, as she lays beside him. She smiles for it is more than she could have ever imagined, this second chance the nøkken has granted her. Completion.

Almost with inevitability, like the swing of a pendulum, it ends.

Elsa wakes with the break of dawn on the third day following her drowning, eyes fight to flutter open, blinking back the fog hanging in her mind. She's in her room, safe in her bed. Her hand shifts to press over the ache in her chest. It is among the cacophony of things she notices just as she wakes: the distant sounds of the castle - noises, frantic activity at the start of a day, a warmth at her back, the call from songs coaxing her to rise and _come._

_Get up. Go to the sea._

Her body feels very heavy, almost protesting to comply like gears of clockwork trying to wind. Eventually Elsa coordinates herself and push upright, weakly pressing her hand back over the ache in her heart. It _hurts._ As she does, she hears a soft gasp from the other side of the bed. Elsa glances over, truthfully unsurprised to find Anna sitting up beside her.

"You're up! Oh my goodness that is wonderful!" Anna squeals suddenly. In the blink of an eye she's sprung to her feet, halfway round Elsa's bed, offering a hand and a desperate hug.

"I." Elsa begins, stopped by the unbidden quiver in her voice. She clears it, attempts to smooth it. Elsa takes a deep breath and continues simply, "I. How long – _what happened_?"

"There was accident on the ship and in the rain and wind we couldn't find you. We were terrified you had drowned but hours later you washed-up on the shore, still alive."

Anna's eyes are filled with such unease, worried brow pulled low as she studies Elsa. "Elsa. It's been days. You'd come to long enough for the physicians to give you various tonics - medications. A little water. Then we couldn't wake you again for hours."

_Days?_

Elsa's mind races after that – stomach sinking at the thought that _he_ could be anywhere by now. Hot panic races through her, a hopelessness, _how will I find him again?_

Her eyes despondently shift to the window, the fjord obscured by the fabric draping the windows.

_No._

Anna senses her despair, attempts to reassure, "I can't imagine what you've been through, I am so proud of you for being so strong and brave. Really Elsa, I think I'd have a nervous breakdown if I'd been lost at sea!"

Anna's awe is evident, small smile of pride on her lips.

"Kristoff was going to see Grand Pabbie – see if there was something he could do to help you since nothing the physicians were doing seemed to help." There is a roll of her eyes with that. She adds, "He was going to leave this morning."

Elsa nods dumbly as Anna hands her a glass of water. Anna stares at the tremor in Elsa's fingers as they wrap around the glass, offers a reassuring smile when Elsa manages to get the glass to her lips without spilling. The water quenches the dry burn to Elsa's throat, relieves some of the ache she feels, but tastes _sweet_ after the salt of the ocean had filled her. _Strange._

Elsa's expression must be odd, one of confusion because Anna giggles. "What's wrong?"

Elsa shrugs as she hands the glass back, laying back onto her pillows. Anna continues to fuss over her, propping and fluffing pillows around her to help. Elsa realizes that a pair of maids have come into her chambers, opening drapes and setting breakfast trays and tea at the bedside for Anna. Anna says something quietly to them, instructions to notify the Queen's physician and Head of Staff regarding her status. Anna glances back to Elsa with such relief, absurdly Elsa feels _guilty_.

"I can't explain it." Elsa says finally, after the maids finally bob their neat curtsies, eyes fixed to the floor, and the bedchamber door latches shut. "The water tasted… _sweet."_

"That's weird." Anna says, still watching with those worried eyes as she sits beside Elsa.

"Umm. Elsa? Do you want to talk? About what happened?"

 _No._ Elsa does not. She wants to be at the shore, in the waves, _in his arms._ Not something the Queen of Arendelle can confess Elsa decides, even to Anna. But she has to figure this out, and maybe Anna knows a piece to the puzzle.

"Know that I am unsure what was real and what was just a dream," Elsa takes a steadying breath as she takes Anna's hand with a slight squeeze, "so please don't think I'm crazy."

"I love crazy," Anna giggles softly, forces Elsa's lips to pull into a small smile. "And I never would, but talking about what you remember may help."

_Okay._

"I was saved. From death." Elsa says slowly, cautiously, "I don't know how, and I definitely don't understand why, but I was saved. When I was thrown into the sea, I couldn't tell which way was up, how far under I was, _nothing._ I had resigned myself to my fate: I was going to die just as Papa and Mama had. I heard sounds in the water like songs, _calling to me_. I realized that someone was there, with me, that I was safe. He was – _beautiful_ , a gorgeous creature from the water who moved like liquid with fin like a fish. He kissed me and at once the pain I felt went away. My chest no longer burned, longing for air, and I felt something stir inside me that I have never felt before, like a switch being flipped and magic rushing through me…but not my magic."

Elsa knows how ridiculous this all sounds, certainly she's gone _mad,_ "The last thing I remember was waking up on shore of the fjord and hearing faint _songs_ calling to me again. He was still there, next to me. He kissed me again and it was like his energy and power washed over me, like a wave crashing…I felt stronger the longer we kissed but something startled him, and he laid me back down and returned to the sea."

"Hu?" Anna grunts, almost comically.

"Remember those tales Mama use to tell us at bedtime? Of magical creatures who inhabit the waters – _nøkken?"_ Elsa realizes that it all feels so much more _real_ saying it out loud. "I think they are real, and I've been bewitched by one. He – he took the form of Prince Hans."

Anna's jaw had dropped with disbelief, completely dumbfounded and unable to reply by the time Elsa's eyes meet hers again.

"I still feel his magic, it's pulling me to return to the sea. To join him."

"I don't know," Anna says warily. "It seems - unlikely?"

_That's putting it mildly._

Elsa sighs, "Maybe Grand Pabbie would know? His wisdom is far greater than anything in our library regarding magic."

"I can send Kristoff this morning. He was planning a trip."

"No. I." Elsa can't really think straight, mind wanting only to think of her savior. "I want to talk to him."

Anna protests, "You're not strong enough!"

"Tomorrow then." Elsa says with finality. "We will go tomorrow."


	5. In The Pale Moon's Light

Kristoff and Sven had heard the wild rumor as it spread through the village early in the day, one of a mermaid having been seen – male, on the beach of the fjord. However, Kristoff doesn't "do" gossip, thus he fails to mention the rumor to Anna. Or Elsa. Until later.

Much later.

Elsa can't suppress her excited gasp nor the race of her heart as Kristoff says something in passing, like it was nothing, that evening after dinner. Her eyes dart to Anna who looks extremely displeased with the news (it validates what Elsa has said, her bizarre story and Anna doesn't seem to want to believe any of it).

Anna says suspicious, "So you think it's true?"

Kristoff shares that in general everyone who had heard the rumor just seemed to have a good laugh at the story teller, easily discrediting the entire tale with 'that's just crazy old Osman', so there were no curious mobs of villagers running to the beaches with fishing nets attempting to capture the creature.

"Elsa," Kristoff sighs, "I've known Os for years and yes, the old man is prone to exaggeration." Kristoff gestures vaguely as he mutters, "In addition to excessive drinking."

Elsa stares at him.

"But seriously, otherwise he's pretty creditable. A good guy, trustworthy." Kristoff says.

"But a mermaid?" Anna says skeptically.

"If he says he saw a mermaid, he probably did. Or a really large, person-like fish that washed up. Either way, I don't think he's lying about it – he was strangely shook-up about." Kristoff said amused, "Afraid he'd be cursed."

Anna huffs at that (disagreement or frustration, it's hard to tell).

The night sky twinkles with stars before Elsa dares to even _suggest_ to Anna that she visit the shore where she had been found. She's spent the day resting under the watchful eye of physicians, receiving briefs from her advisors, and doing her very best to ignore the strange magic swirling inside (she's rather adept at hiding magic). Anna had finally relaxed – the hovering subsiding, giving Elsa her chance, and Elsa _asks_.

Much to her surprise Anna, albeit warily, and evidently having anticipated such an asinine request, agrees.

"Thank you, Anna." Elsa says. Her smile is small, astonished. Elsa's truthfully overwhelmed by Anna sometimes; Anna's ability to irrationally support her, regardless of how every logical, sensible bone in Elsa's being is screaming _don't._

"Yup." Anna shrugs her shoulders, "Go put your toes in the ocean…we'll wait for the little fishies to come kiss them, too."

Elsa is familiar with the grin Anna is wearing – she's quite pleased with herself and what she is implying.

Elsa narrows her eyes, " _Anna…"_

"No, Elsa – I get it. A little romance is a good thing. Enchanted or not."

Elsa can feel the burning heat crawl up her neck as she scolds, "It wasn't what you're thinking. I was dying."

"So you said. And I am being open-minded here. Totally not judgmental." Anna says mater-of-fact. Anna hesitates for a heartbeat before adding, "But _you_ were the one getting all hot and heavy with some random aquatic creature - who looked like the spirit of Prince Hans, who appeared to you from the sea."

Elsa sighs. She knew that part would eventually be discussed.

"And don't even get me started about what that all means, _Prince Hans._ Ew." Anna shutters for effect, "Why Hans? He's dead! Why not some of the other good looking Princes who have come to woo you over the years? Hu? Of course Hans was gorgeous and all, and his physique totally helped, but that was before we really knew him. I mean, _really_ knew him. But I can get how a magical creature looking to take the form of someone really handsome might pick him. Actually _…about that._ "

Elsa is wondering about that part, too (the _why Prince Hans?_ part). She can count on one hand the number of times she'd actually been in the same room as Prince Hans, let alone spoken to him. When she had, it was absolutely not with any sort of romantic notion. If a nøkken had somehow known her thoughts, what memory to call on as he chose a form she'd find appealing as he bewitched her, she's baffled as to why he would pick _Hans._

Elsa doesn't share any of her thoughts aloud as she knows Anna well enough not to interrupt the rambling. It's generally better to let her get it all out at once.

"Actually...you watery little _tart_!" Anna beams a sly grin.

Elsa rolls her eyes, and she hadn't tried conjuring any snow since awaking, but now may be an appropriate time. Elsa's hand raises, twisting gracefully as she finds the potential of her magic still coursing through her veins, although it's harder to summon and focus the ice because her mind is thinking of how a certain _gorgeous physique_ had felt pressed against her, enveloping her in strong arms. Elsa shakes that off and her snow finally appears.

"You've hardly even been courted, I'll bet you've never held bare hands with a gentleman before, and you were kissing this guy?! Have you been keeping secrets from - _pfft_." Anna gasps, small flurried globe meeting its mark.

Anna smiles, "Your magic is back!"

"Yes." Elsa says. She can feel the traitorous blush still staining her checks.

"So, I struck a nerve?" Anna knows the answer to that already, so it's more of a rhetorical question. "Well, I'm only entertaining this because you are recovering from drowning."

"Thank you." Elsa says sarcastically. "So, I'm going now."

Elsa realizes she's being absurd – essentially demanding to take a midnight stroll, alone, on a beach.

She finds she doesn't care. She is the _Queen._ One with dangerous magic, so she's quite capable of handling herself. That's got to be worth _something…_

It is only after additional convincing to her personal guards that Elsa finally releases a soft sigh as she wades into the sea, foam swirling around her knees.

* * *

It's with the certainty a crack of thunder will follow the lightning strike, that Hans knows. He freezes mid-sentence, his argument with Fisk regarding modern ship design and laminar flow forgotten as he feels his heart leap from his chest erratically.

Elsa has _come._

Hans left her shore hours ago.

Foreboding panic overwhelms Hans, leaving him momentarily frozen as he stares in horror at Fisk. Because she's come and _he's not there_.

"Oh no." Hans says aghast, "She's finally come to the sea."

"What?" Fisk looks utterly confused, "Queen Elsa? How can you tell?"

"I…I don't know – but." Hans has this sudden premonition of Elsa succumbing to the waves, drowning herself in vain pursuit of him, the siren who'd called her - right to her death. Hans curses to himself as he takes off towards the coastline, praying he's entirely wrong.

( _But what else would one expect a siren's victim to do?_ )

Hans has no idea why, but he's drawn to the rocky shore he left her on, something pulling him back there. He distantly thinks of his youth and playing with magnets: spin them around, poles pushing against one another until one flips – attracting them together with sudden force. He's hoping that's what this is, the bond magnetizing them together. His muscles protest as he swims faster than he's ever pushed himself before.

Minutes pass like hours until he manages to find Arendelle's Queen, and the anxiety he feels only worsens. Sure enough – she's underwater. Sinking like a stone to the bottom of the fjord.

Yet another curse escapes him. Why did she wait until _now_ to come to the sea? The Elsa he remembers was careful, calculating. Purposeful.

_Siren's magic or not, surely she possess enough self-restraint to avoid drowning herself._

Hans grabs for her, confused and angry (mostly at himself, but irrationally he's blaming her) - capturing her wrist and hauling her to his bare chest. His fingers tangle into her platinum hair, carelessly catching delicate strands as he holds her still, crashing his lips to hers.

_She kisses him back…_

His heart thuds violently, just in case he was considering denying how much he wants _this,_ wants her. Hans finds himself unsure of who's saving who in this scenario; magic surging between them. He is so overwhelmed that he's momentarily forgotten that she needs air to breathe, only aware of the slide of her tongue against his. Rational thought eventually restores itself, but only after her free hand weaves fingers into his hair, fisting tightly to command the kiss with an intensity that defies logic.

Hans wraps his arms around her, holding her possessively _(…mine)_ , allowing her to deepen the kiss and steal his breath as he rockets upward.

He calculates that they couldn't be that far under, and it's not so much the pressure that could cause trouble for her, but the lack of air. Clutching her to him they break through the water's surface of the fjord with enough force to break the kiss, leaving Elsa to sputter silently in the cool night as she gasps, just for a moment, then sob in frantic relief – not for air, but for him.

Hans' chest aches strangely with the realization of just how affected she is by this siren's bond. He was worried by how overwhelmed he felt, but it must be a fraction of what she is experiencing because her lips are desperate on the wet skin at his neck, soft voice soaking into his flesh, worshiping _him,_ whispering the most wonderful words of adoration.

 _It's all too much_ , Hans thinks as he swallows painfully. Something like tears sit hard in his throat. He cradles her closer to him, (she's something precious, a treasure – she always has been, but just now she's facing a wretched fate – being cursed to be his), murmuring sweetly into her hair until slowly she calms. Hans comforts her, heart beating in time with hers as his name escape with Elsa's breath. They bob lazily with the waves, like a mother soothing her babe in her arms, Elsa buried in his embrace. Guilt weighs on him, this was his fault – his mess.

"Hans?" She sounds awful. She should really quit drowning.

"My Queen," Hans says softly, affectionately, "You mustn't scare me like that."

He lets his delight that she's in his arms spill across his mouth as he lift her chin to bring her dark eyes to his. Elsa looks back at him at him in wonder, like he's her world, her everything, and he has to remember that this is all just _magic._

But the ghost of their kiss still rests on his mouth, so he's certain he is gazing at her the same way.

"I'm sorry," Elsa whispers. "I couldn't resist the songs."

Hans feels terrible with that, and confused – it was hours ago he gave up calling her, reluctantly leaving the shore when the night sky shone brightly with stars. He hadn't been singing.

"You were called to the fjord?"

"I'm unable to explain it." Elsa says. She sighs in relief as presses her lips to his briefly, eyes alight with adoration. "I've heard songs, while I was sleeping, but tonight it was different – I. I couldn't resist any longer."

Something worries Hans about that, Elsa must sense his alarm because she tenses.

"Let's get you back to the shore," Hans murmurs gently as he starts to swim, not giving her opportunity to protest or question. He's thankful the bond is presently quieted in his mind and he can finally _think_ , finally feel more like himself, more so than he has for days.

Her eyes are wide when he looks at her once more. She's definitely not helping his restraint when she looks at him like that.

"It's safer for you there, Your Majesty." Hans says in explanation, "And perhaps we can think more clearly."

"You know who I am?" Elsa says, studying him.

"Of course I do."

He hadn't considered that she wouldn't know him, know who or _what_ he was, or that she'd assume he isn't aware of who exactly she is.

 _No._ She's spoken his name repeatedly. _Right?_

Her fingers begin to trace his features methodically in silence, the pad of her thumb brushing across his lips and he can sense how hard she resists the urge to kiss him, instead nuzzling into him with a faint whimper as her hand settles at his nape.

She looks genuinely torn.

The magic is clearing slowly from her mind, Hans realizes, he can feel that, feel the bond as it shifts, control weakening and he wonders _why_.

"Are you hurt?"

Elsa shakes her head slightly, still contemplating him.

"Something is troubling you."

"It is just that… _I don't understand_." Elsa says slowly, her brows knit in confusion. "Why are you Hans?"

There is a lie hovering in his mouth, ready to offer a denial of his identity, to protect his Grandfather's kingdom and insist that Elsa is mistaken. But the idea of her thinking he is someone else, sighing someone else's name in that way he's become addicted to, is an impossibility. How this is stronger than the need to abide by the last contingency of his punishment, he's unsure.

He's equally unsure why he swallows it down and offers instead, "It is short for Admiral Prince Johannes Christian Andersen Westergård, of the House of – ."

"That's not what I asked." Elsa's voice is frustrated as she interrupts, one of authority not to be trifled with.

He blinks.

Hans remembers that tone. But he is trying to offer the truth plainly, honestly, and feels himself bristle as she asserts herself. The passion from earlier has cooled, isn't so overwhelming, thus Hans decides to be daft. On purpose.

_(He is the youngest of thirteen, that fact cannot exactly be forgotten.)_

"That is what you asked, although I'm quite certain I don't have the explanation that would satisfy you, Your Grace." He does a poor job hiding his amusement at her question, catching her gaze sharpen as he plays _stupid._

"You'd have to ask my Father, but I suspect that after twelve boys, he had run out of ancestors to pay homage to. I'm the first of my name."

Her eyes narrow. Hans is gleefully aware of the fact that despite the bond, she's _irritated._

He adds, "Regardless, Hans Westergård will do."

"I'm being serious."

"As am I."

Elsa's lips press flat.

Hans is a little uncomfortable under her silent scrutiny as they come to the rocky beach, her expression inscrutable as she shifts to sit on the shore. He settles beside her, waves still pooling around them.

"Explain yourself."

"Please understand that I never meant to…" Hans tries unsuccessfully.

"You've taken his form to seduce me." Elsa says, "Why?"

He's unable to hide his surprise, he's sure. _Seduce her?_

"Trust I have not. I simply saved your life." Hans says flatly. Her sudden lack of gratitude is insulting. "I have taken this form, somewhat against my will. But that argument fell on deaf ears years ago and remains just as futile an argument today. My Grandfather cannot be persuaded."

"You're a nøkken."

Hans can't help the explosive little laugh that elicits. "A nøkken? You've read one too many fairy stories, Your Grace."

"Elsa should suffice, and no. I have not." Elsa snaps. "I wield magic to control the elements of winter, trolls live within the borders of my kingdom, and my cousin was born with hair capable of restoring youth and health – even life. Why in the world would nøkken not be real?"

His mouth quirks, "Of course. My apologies."

Elsa growls in frustration, crossing her arms tightly against her chest, glaring at the seafoam playing around them.

Hans laughs, light and genuine. _Has_ _she never been goaded?_

 _"_ _Hans."_ Elsa scolds.

"Yes." He grins, leaning over to bury his laugh into her hair, hand sliding affectionately across hers to capture. Despite her annoyance, Elsa arches into him shamelessly, scowling as she presses a kiss to his collarbone, like her body awakens with his every touch. In their silence, Hans manages to conquer his amusement.

"I am actually sorry," he says finally, looking at her hand in his and studying the contrast of how _delicate_ she seems. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Hans presses a kiss to her palm, smiling at the soft keening sigh the small act elicits. Hans explains himself, what occurred after he left Arendelle years ago, his Grandfather and his undersea kingdom – why he was in her seas in the first place. Oddly, Elsa hardly looks surprised.

"When I found you drowned, my only intention was to save your life. I failed to realize that by giving you my breath, we would be bound to each other like this...I can't think straight, my thoughts are almost entirely of you. The only relief I have felt is now, when you've been with me."

"Oh." Elsa says, her eyes focused somewhere on his chest, trailing the saltwater than clings to his skin. Her cheeks are flushed, quite fetchingly. Hans wonders if she's even paying attention to what he has said, if she has ever seen a man in such a state of undress (then realizes how fabulously scandalous this could all be if anyone were to know).

He shakes that thought away.

"I am trying to find a way to break the bond." Hans says. "Thus far information is scant regarding our predicament."

"I can't live like this." Elsa pauses, and Hans can see her mind working. "Anna and I are going to the trolls tomorrow to see if they are able to help. Will you be nearby?"

"Yes. I shall wait for you to return to the fjord." Hans smiles, "I promise no more songs, either. Can't have you throwing yourself into the sea again."

Elsa's lips pull, like she's trying to avoid a smile, instead she hums. She sits up and leans over to press a kiss, long and torturously sweet as her hands map his flesh. The moan that escapes her is nothing artful, nor becoming, instead desperate and completely lost. He'd be lying to himself he said he didn't feel the same.

Hans manages to steady himself, breaks from her mouth to press his forehead to hers as his eyes flutter closed, praying she will return home _willingly._ "Your guards. They will be here at any moment. You should return before you are discovered missing."

Elsa looks stricken, conflicted. "Of course."

"I'll be right here. I promise."

Elsa nods, gathering herself up reluctantly, rising like it's the hardest thing she's ever been asked to do. She starts back up the beach, towards the castle before stopping abruptly, turning sharply to face him. She worries her lip.

"Hans – I." Elsa's mouth clicks shut, releasing a sharp exhale. Eventually she manages, "I shall see you tomorrow."

"On my honor, Your Grace."

A small, content smile graces her lips. Hans watches her until she's obscured in the darkness, hopeful that there may be a _chance_ at ending all this, before he splashes back into the wave. Salt water beckons him home and straight into Fisk.

"You lured her into the ocean for what?" Fisk grins, or at least the fish equivalent, "A late night rendezvous?"

"Not exactly. But she had come." Hans narrows his eyes in response when something triggers a warrior's sense of alarm to be raised.

"I'm just trying to…" Hans says cautiously.

Fisk seemingly oblivious to whatever Hans feels goes on, "Ah. It would seem you're not a siren"

Hans turns, commanding hand held up to Fisk for silence.

A presence behind him, hidden in the shadowed waters emerges.

"Oh, but he is." says a voice – seductive. "He is a child of the sea, no matter his form."

Hans finds himself face to face with a creature – mysterious and exquisitely beautiful, dark skin with dark eyes, strange markings adorning her arms. Instead of a tail, like him, she has ink-black tentacles that move fluidly, effortlessly graceful as she approaches Fisk. "Your Prince is just trying to lure another magical creature to him. That is… _difficult_."

Every inch of this creature seems to have been created to entice and charm, devastatingly beautiful.

Hans can't place her accent. Mediterranean?

"Greece." She smiles as if reading Hans' mind, twist of her lips alluring yet sharp. "And I may be able to help you with your little problem."


	6. Uma

Hans understands the power of presentation, how to put on a show.

As he regards the exquisitely exotic creature before him, he instantly knows how she expects him to react to her. So Hans plays his part, allows interest to flicker in his eyes as he folds his hands respectfully behind his back, pulling closer to her.

She appears younger than him, but carries herself with an air of _wisdom_ that is out of place. Lissome yet voluminous in a manner most males would crave, she clearly doesn't underestimate the power of what a body can communicate, exuding unspoken desire with her every movement.

From what she'd said, she knows who he is, as well as assumes she knows who Elsa must be - crudely referring to Elsa as _another magical creature._ Her description of Elsa truthfully upsets Hans, a roil of unease stirs at the degrading sentiment - Elsa is _his_. His light, his purpose. (Inadvertently.)

Hans tries to dismiss the protective anger that defies his control, forcing his posture to remain neutral. It must be the bond causing these foreign feelings to torture in him – the unadulterated urge to scheme for Elsa's safety and happiness without regard for his own.

_How very strange._

She raises her chin, meeting his gaze with a look of that speaks of secrets.

"There's no need for you to be vague." Hans says gently. He offers his most disarmingly handsome smile as he motions for Fisk to remain silent, praying the haddock will actually mind him for a change. "Please. Speak openly."

_He can't let it show. One wrong move and she will know his impotence regarding the Arendelle Queen._

After all, she's a predator – Hans is astutely aware of that fact. Hans knows exactly how to prey on others, too.

Hans sharpens his own smile, mirroring hers

This creature is sadly mistaken - seemingly she underestimates his ability to play the game despite the fact she was right - Hans _is_ a child of the sea, regardless of his birth form, which makes him just as restless and _dangerous_ as her.

"You've chosen your victim masterfully," she praises, "despite being naive to such things. She's extremely valuable."

Hans arches an inquisitive brow.

"Although, your spoil is difficult to influence – is she not?"

 _You have no idea,_ Hans thinks. He offers her a nod.

The beauty studies him.

"She seemed perfectly amendable to being toyed with by me, came when I – you know." Her voice is sultry, melodic. _Like a siren._ She trails a hand along her torso, across her breast in something like a caress to rest atop her heart (if one should be located where his is, Hans thinks), wetting her lips.

"It's interesting how gender sometimes affects the ability to seduce, to attract. It is dangerous to assume that the natural mating process for humans, the need for male and female, would facilitate the strongest bonds." Her eyes are dark with arousal. "Some females have no interest in mating."

Hans does not like what she is implying. Especially regarding Elsa. He has carnal knowledge that Elsa was indeed _very_ interested in something along those lines, with him, had he not been able to control himself. And he's dreamt of a babe. His babe. (No, theirs _–_ suckling at Elsa's breast, introduced by Elsa as _the future King of Arendelle._ )Every fiber of his being longs for that reality.

Elsa has interest _in mating_ , as this creature has put it.

"For centuries, so few human females came to the seas – I'm not sure if it is just me, but I find it easier to attract them, knowing exactly what drives a woman to lose control and relinquish themselves willingly to my whims."

She smiles sweetly, "I always let them go. Catch and release, if you will.  No harm done."

Hans' jaw tightens involuntarily as he forces a dark chuckle that could easily be mistaken as agreement. He fears the urge to stop her vile words fights to crack the reflection he's offering her.

Fisk, predictably, is unable to follow even the simplest instructions – and is evidently intolerant of this creature before them, refusing to remain silent any longer.

"She's a sea-witch." Fisk hisses, "Like all her kind. Ignore her, Your Highness."

Hans shoots a warning look to Fisk.

Fisk has the decency to look like he's realized his slip when he looks at Hans.

"Prince Hans?" she purrs, pleased smile pulling wider. Moving past him, a wandering tentacle brushes lightly across his shoulder, suggestively.

He almost laughs at her flirtation – she seems oblivious to how she's truly affecting him, his concern for Elsa now replacing every other emotion.

_Good._

"You know who I am," Hans says coolly. "Seems only fair that I have the honor of knowing who you are."

She looks at him, coy, as she begins to swim away, beckoning him to follow. "Yes, it would only be fair."

_Looks like they are relocating._

Hans appears beside her, catching the faint surprise her eyes betray when he angles his arm in invitation.

"It's Uma." She accepts his arm, looking pleased. "And the term _witch_ is a little misguided."

"Is it?"

"Yes - although I fortunately know a little magic." She smiles again, "Despite my talents, I'm just me."

"Just you?" Hans echoes with curiosity.

"They weren't kidding when they called my mother - well, a witch." Uma says with displeased shrug. "She wasn't much of a mother – I actually never knew her after I hatched. Or my Aunt Morgana."

Hans, of course, has heard the tales of Ursula and Morgana – despite being raised on land, he was not sheltered from lessons that there are evils in the sea that are more than willing to pit family against one another, prey on emotion and impulsive infatuation to get what they want.

(As he eventually did in Arendelle.)

Fisk is behind them in a heartbeat, "You're one of Ursula's children. Nothing but a daemon – a _monster."_

Uma's eyes reflect something like frustration at Fisk's accusation, turning on him without warning.

"Why don't you run back to the illustrious King Triton – and leave us, insignificant fools, be." Uma chides.

Hans needs Uma's trust if he's to learn how to free Elsa from this _curse,_ understand why Uma has interest in Elsa to being with, and thus he won't dismiss Ursula's daughter as easily as Fisk.

"Fisk," Hans says while meeting Uma's dark gaze and leaving no room for argument, "Go back to the castle."

Fisk makes motion to seemingly do as told.

Uma hums her agreement as she glides a hand across Hans' chest, over his shoulder as she whispers, "Time to have a little _fun."_

* * *

"So why, _exactly_ , are we going to the Valley of the Living Rock if Elsa is awake now?" Kristoff asks. He bites off a chunk of carrot, offering the rest to a grateful Sven.

"Because." Anna actually pauses, contemplating how she should respond. "Elsa sort of managed to get herself into a – _predicament?_ She needs to know how to extricate herself as soon as possible."

"A predicament?"

"Yah." Anna bites at her lip, eyes shifting to Elsa for help, "A magical one?"

Kristoff hoists himself up and onto the front bench of his carriage, "Does this have anything to do with the rumored mermaid yesterday?"

_Good lord, Anna looks positively frantic with excitement._

Elsa is mortified. She ducks her chin to hide the flush of red she is certain is staining her cheeks. This is almost worse than earlier when she tried to explain _rationally_ to Anna that her savior was not a nøkken who had nefariously taken the form of Prince Hans to seduce her, but was _actually_ Prince Hans. Inadvertently seducing her against his will.

(But it was after he saved her life not once, but twice now – so that had to be taken into consideration, in Elsa's opinion.)

"O-kay," Kristoff drawls, "But do I get to hear more detail than that, or am I meant to left in the dark on this one?"

Kristoff glances at the reindeer, who appears to communicate an entire conversation with the blink of dark eyes.

"You know I avoid gossip like the plague." Kristoff smirks, looking back at Anna. "But - I am dying to know why you look like the cat who got the cream while her Majesty's ears are pink."

_Oh figs!_

If Elsa wasn't so affronted at the notion of what has occurred, this _bond_ that causes the most inappropriate and erotic urges to course through her against her will, directed at Hans Westergård of all people, she would scold Kristoff. And Anna.

Elsa can't tear her eyes away from her nervous fingers, "I promise to share with you - or rather, Anna can share with you while I correct her inconsistencies, because goodness knows she will explode if she doesn't get to talk about this to _someone_."

"Hurray!" Anna blurts out, completely unapologetic, grabbing Elsa's hands and putting her head on Elsa's shoulder. "Let's go!"

And so began the awkward interrogation of Queen Elsa...

The entire trip to visit Kristoff's family is filled with laughter (from Anna), awkwardness (from Elsa as well as Kristoff...regretting having asked to know what was going on), and plenty of oddly worded questions - some of which none could answer.

Very quickly the situation became almost intolerable for Elsa, deciding that if she were to die of embarrassment, at least she would no longer be bound to Hans. (She was ok with that.)

As the sounds of the village faded, yielding to birds and wind rustling leaves, Kristoff declared that all questions should be directed to Anna, giggling madly beside him

(At one point Elsa and Kristoff had to question if Anna had gotten into Gerda's supply of lingonberry liqueur, again.)

"So was Hans always a mermaid and just changed into a human when he was in the mood to lead a coup d'état?" Kristoff asks, sarcastically.

Anna huffs, "Evidently?"

"No!" Elsa snaps, although she's unsure why she's suddenly compelled to defend Hans' actions a lifetime ago. "I don't think? And he's a merman, not a mermaid."

"I don't get it." Anna says.

"Merman is male. Mermaid is female." Kristoff surmises.

Elsa offers a silent prayer for Kristoff's presence in Anna's life – he's wonderfully _logical._ And ice is his life (Elsa has a soft spot for that).

Kristoff adds, "So, is that the same thing as a siren?"

"A what?" Anna is genuinely confused. "Like something that makes a loud prolonged sound as a signal or warning? I bet he is because he sure can sing. _THAT_ should have been a warning..."

Elsa groans, "Ugh, Anna, no. He means like a creature whose singing lures unwary sailors into the hazardous of the seas where they are subsequently drowned." Elsa suddenly _hates_ that description of Hans – of who he is, or what he is, although it may be accurate. She's enjoyed too many dreams of Hans fulfilling the void in her life that she never knew existed.

"And I guess? But he didn't drown me – he. He." Elsa stumbles over her words, catching _he's my light – he completes me,_ before they escape without her permission.

Anna does not look impressed, "I stand by my previous response."

Elsa rolls her eyes.

Kristoff looks genuinely confused, "Why did he save Queen Elsa? I mean - he tried to kill her before."

"Because he is a horrible, ugly, despicable monster. Like a _Nøkken_..." Anna says.

"The killing me part was more to end my _Eternal Winter,_ and as punishment for freezing Anna's heart." Elsa frowns. "Both totally justified in my opinion – thus Arendelle returned him to the Southern Isles. As to why he saved me? I don't exactly know. He just said he couldn't let me die. That he isn't the man he once was."

Kristoff seems to read between the lines of what Elsa has said. "So…Elsa is now in love with Hans-the-horrible-ugly-Nøkken, since he saved her life?

"No!" Anna gasps, thoroughly offended. "It's more of an infatuation, possessed with a foolish or unreasoning sexual passion..."

 _"_ _ANNA!_ _"_

"He gave her his breath. But if he lives underwater, why does he have a breath to give her?" Kristoff can be painfully logical at times.

Anna grins, "It's just code for sucking face. He made-out with a drowning victim. How pathetic is that?"

Elsa lowers her head into her hands, noticing the headache now setting in thanks to the worst road trip ever. She refuses to respond any further questions or statements. She ends up declaring that she isn't feeling well, and by order of the _QUEEN_ , no more questions.

Anna attempts to protest only to be told to " _find another more suitable subject to keep yourselves occupied with."_

* * *

 


	7. Breaking Point

 

It was about an hour ago that Elsa began to suspect that coming to the Valley was perhaps a bad decision – not exactly the first in a series of rather questionable decisions over the course of the last day. But this one may have been particularly ill-sighted because now she's feeling, well, ill. However she's here now, and going to get the answers she wants.

That is if anyone would bother to wake Grand Pabbie from his nap.

Instead, Kristoff's adopted family gushes excitedly over the impromptu visit – pestering both Kristoff and Anna about getting married (again), little trolls showing off their new tricks and the magic crystals they've found, the wards they've learned to conjure; adopted family sharing and enjoying Kristoff and Anna's company - as well as honored by the Queen's visit. It's not entirely unheard of, but unusual. The joyful songs are certainly endearing, however Elsa's not sure how much more she can handle of this before she loses her mind.

With the heel of her hand pressed hard to her chest, the tightness and burning subsides a little, but the ache remains. As does the increasingly persistent waves of nausea that threaten to turn her inside-out. It also does nothing to relieve the pressure in her head, having significantly worsened from earlier. The chatter and commotion from the trolls that have gathered around Elsa seems almost deafening, she can't think, aside from focusing on the anxiety that she's being torn apart and it has something to do with the bond.

Except - she can't hear the songs any longer. They've gone silent. For the first time.

So it couldn't be that, could it?

"Elsa?" Anna's eyes are filled with apprehension as she bounds to a stop before her, green skirts swishing as if in perpetual motion as she halts her dance. "You don't look so good. Maybe we should go home."

Elsa just shakes her head, then regrets the movement as she swallows down the bile crawling up her throat.

"You remember my nineteenth birthday, right? The clock tower incident?" Anna says. "You refused to listen to me all day long until you practically plummeted to your death while twirling around. How 'bout you forgo danger this time and just listen to me from the beginning?"

Anna motions to Kristoff to follow as she attempts to steer Elsa back to the carriage, away from the circle of trolls and revelry just as Grand Pabbie rolls forward, popping open with an intense look of concern, scrutinizing Elsa.

"Please, Queen Elsa." Grand Pabbie reaches for Elsa's hand, "Come."

Grand Pabbie motions for her to lower, within his reach.

Elsa hurts too much to remember that she doesn't like to be touched, an ingrained sense of fear regarding close contact with others (irrationally), and instead she does as he asks. She inadvertently slumps to the grass with a moan, knees buckling suddenly as her body refuses to cooperate.

Anna immediately drops down to Elsa's side to support her, arms wrapped around her shoulders, "What's wrong?"

"Forgive me, but I not well," Elsa grimaces. Talking makes Elsa's throat feel as if she's swallowing broken shards. "Something is horribly wrong."

Anna's anxious eyes dart between Elsa and the elder troll, "What's happening?"

A large stone hand brushes over the crown of Elsa's head, gently resting for a heartbeat before sweeping upward into the darkness of the dense canopy above. Elsa tracks the movement with her eyes. Twinkling shadows suddenly conjure, shadows of Elsa and Hans.

He's a merman.

His shadowed figure is conjured with something akin to tiny stars, and is beautiful. Elsa is rocked with an absurd want of him, desire to allow herself to selfishly have the fantasy – as if everything would be okay if only he could complete her. Grand Pabbie shifts the shadowed Hans to human form, and much to Elsa's horror, a faint whimper of need escapes her lips as something hot hook low in her abdomen. She's mortified.

Grand Pabbie smiles empathetically, "Your Majesty. There is magic here – that of a siren."

"Hans?" Anna sounds positively indignant, "Prince Hans of the Southern Isles? Nope. I'm not buyin' it."

"Your Highness, Prince Hans spoke the truth. His mother is a mermaid, having been granted human form by his grandfather, King Triton, through his magic. Thus, Hans was born in human form. Although he is half-human, he still possess some traits of the merpeople."

The twinkling shadow of Hans swirls, transforming fluidly back into a merman as Elsa's shadow becomes flaccid, pulled downward.

She's drowning…

Hans' shadow swims to hers, wraps shadow-Elsa into his arms and looks upward, then back to her with hesitation. He takes shadow-Elsa's cheek into his hand to hold her still as he kisses her – suddenly the glittered shadows shine, merging into one so brightly Elsa finds herself ducking her head down to avoid the glare as the magic dissipates.

Grand Pabbie continues, "Prince Hans was not meant to take the form of a merman but rather live as a human. Nor was he meant to practice the magic they possess."

This deleterious magic, she thinks; the magic that consumes her, driving her mad with painful desires, her skin aching with need of his touch.

"What do you know of their magic?" Elsa says weakly, throat burning in pain.

"Mermaids use magic to enchant songs which can lure and control humans; so powerful is this magic to inspire lust and desire that it will call victims to the sea, to danger without regard, and to their deaths. Very nefarious."

Elsa had figured out that part first-hand, last night.

Grand Pabbie shakes his head, "But centuries ago, when King Triton ascended to the throne, he outlawed the use of the siren's magic. A very wise merman, he is."

Anna shakes her head, "I don't get it. What happened with Hans – when he kissed her?"

"As I said earlier, Prince Hans does possess some of their powers...weaker. That wasn't just a kiss but rather an offer of his breath – an ancient enchantment that breathes life into a human, creating a powerful bond. And Elsa accepted it."

"Why would a mermaid do something like that?" Anna questions.

"The reason behind the magic I am unsure of."

"So what's going on?" Elsa says, "He feel similarly – wouldn't he be unaffected?"

Grand Pabbie sighs, "I suspect that when he gave you his breath, Queen Elsa, the magic...how do I say this, scrambled, looking for the human to enchant and create a bond with. It found you, and it found him. You are both bound by a far less potent magic than what a true siren would have been capable of, but still powerful enough to give you the breath of life and create a bond."

"Hans is telling the truth?" Anna says confused.

"Yes. The bond divided between them, although more so affecting Queen Elsa than him."

Grand Pabbie rests a stone hand atop Elsa's shoulder, "I understand that you are looking to me to intervene, to stop the magic from binding you to him, but I cannot. This is truly ancient magic –and if what little known is true, he offered his breath selflessly and you accepted – I am unable to interfere."

Elsa gasps, finally succumbing to the pain and overwhelmed by the madness that consumes her - collapsing into a heap in Anna's lap.

"ELSA!"

Grand Pabbie hovers a hand over Elsa's heart, "The bond has been strained. Stretched too far and I fear if she is not returned to him, she may die. The bond requires them to remain with each other. Stray too far from the siren, the bond will break and human will die."

Elsa closes her eyes with a soft sob, "I'm - sorry. I think it's too late."

"Go. Return her to the shore of the fjord. I suspect that Prince Hans may be in a similar state and if so, would be trying to seek her out as well."

"But if Prince Sideburns is a merman, why would he be like this? He enchanted her." Kristoff scoops Elsa up from Anna.

He looks terrified, Elsa thinks distantly around the pain, gasping for breath – the air suddenly unable to sustain her properly.

"Ah, but Kristoff, he is not entirely a merman; he is partly human. Thus he is likely to suffer as she." says Grand Pabbie.

Kristoff glances down, "Anna. We've got to get her back to Hans." His voice is heavy, like having come to a long, drawn out conclusion – a decision distasteful, yet avoidable no longer.

To her credit, Anna fails to protest. Instead she climbs into the back of the carriage then gathers Elsa further into her arms, offers a reassuring kiss to Elsa's temple with a soft sigh.

Followed by an inelegant curse – Hans' name twisted vulgarly into it.

Finally Anna manages, "Hang in there, Elsa. We're going to get you back to the fjord."

At the forefront of Elsa's awareness is the sensation of movement, as well as excruciating pain and weakness, pulsing throughout her body – a burning in her chest and being starved of air once more, the deafening melodiousness in her ears - calling her to return to Hans.

Flashes of memories surface in her mind of her drowning, the darkness, the cold bite of the water, shimmering scales – illuminous in the near black, and the safety of Hans' arms, sweetness of his mouth, the glorious breath restoring life and erasing the pain.

The songs call her, singing promise of indescribable pleasures like she has never experienced, absolute relief from her suffering, while in Hans' arms. Her mind floods with visions and images that intensify the passionate desires stirring in her, surging throughout her body, a foreign magic she is helpless to resist pulses throughout – torturing her.

                   oOoOo

While Hans has no problem believing that the infamously wicked sea-witch whom battled his Grandfather a generation ago took plenty of dangerous secrets to her grave, it is hard to imagine any of them surfacing now.

But beside him is Uma, in and of herself a shocking revelation, and before him is a sunken Arendelle ship, one of great significance he would wager as he studies the craftsmanship and detailing of it all – despite its present condition. It's of modern times – maybe thirty years old.

"What do you think of my place?" Uma says. She's released him and swam forward, leading the way into a darken passage. "Possess a little of the local flare."

"Quite the location you've chosen." Hans admires. They are close enough now for him to make out H.M.S. INDFØDRETTEN, across the hull, obscured slightly by barnacles and algae, yet still visible.

Hans can't recall the name of the lost Arendelle flag ship, the one late King and Queen of Arendelle had taken on that fateful voyage. Course set for Corona, was it? Although he had heard it once, almost a decade ago, when news made its way to the Southern Isles of the loss Arendelle had suffered and he first hatched his plan to escape – find his own place in the world. To get to Arendelle and make his mark, aspirations set on the heir (she was preferable, naturally).

But for the life of him, he can't recall the name of the ship just now. Mostly because the throbbing ache in his head is making it impossible to think clearly.

"Welcome," Uma coaxes over her shoulder. "Come in. Come in."

Hans surveys his surroundings as she leads him through a few twists and turns. He's now certain this is Arendellian, the carved detailing in the moldings as well as the signature crests set into the brass railings.

A chill runs through him, ominous – a warning. Through the growing pain he questions if this has something to do with her interest in Elsa. And if Uma is casting some sort of spell on him, as each passing moment seems intensify the pain he's feeling.

"So why have you brought me here?"

Uma settles with a flourish upon a ledge, smiling at him. "You seek information regarding the magic of a siren, do you not?"

Hans calls upon a smile, "Yes, although few seem willing to share what little they may know."

Uma hums agreement, "Where I come from, the magic was practiced quietly. Carefully. Just to hone skills and understand the potential."

"The Mediterranean?"

"Yes – ancient magic practiced in an ancient place." Uma says, watching him with dark eyes, "Traditions are important."

Hans catches a faint shimmer on a shelf, something reflecting in the glow of whatever it is Uma has illuminated in the room to provide light. A tarnished metal box. Hans tries to make out what the inscription from across the room, but his vision is blurred in this place. He can't focus on it, aside from making out a scripted H.R.H.

"But don't you know, understand, what you need to?" Uma says with curiosity. "You've got the girl – what else do you need?"

Hans shakes his head, "I don't want her." Keeping his response simple, he hopes it will satisfy what Uma needs.

Uma looks surprised, "Of course you want her. That's the problem, isn't it?"

Hans shakes his head, forcing a small laugh, "Hardly." He pauses as a wave of nausea strikes at him, and his chest tightens. His eyes snap to Uma's suspiciously.

"I'd wondered if the rumors were true, and when I found this," Uma raise a lazy hand and motions around them, "I suspected they were. I just couldn't find her. You solved that little dilemma."

"Elsa?" Hans asks, "I said I don't want her." He realizes this is an outright lie at this point.

"Well – I want her," Uma says softly. Hans can hear the lustful sigh that follows, and hates it. "She is useful to me, in many ways. And not just for that pretty little mouth you're so intrigued with."

Hans steadies himself as he pulls closer the Uma, she presses on. "I would take my pleasure, and a little of her magic – then finally be able to take my rightful place in the sea. My birthright."

Hans glares at her, "She's bound to me."

"Not for long, I suspect." Uma tilts her head in thought, "OH. You shouldn't take much longer. You look dreadful."

Hans must look confused as well, because she continues, "You want the bond broken – only two ways to do that. The other way takes far too long, and I haven't the patience for all that nonsense. So only thing to do is put as much distance as I can between you and my darling little snowflake. But I just realized that you are part human yourself, and I wouldn't have to keep you occupied while I wait."

"Enough!" Hans snaps in disgust, unable to hold back the anger any longer, and maybe he reeks with it or it is written so plainly on his face, but he can't help take notice the way Uma's eyes go wide with a ridiculously pleased impression of triumph.

"Well, well." Uma coos, "It would seem you are affected? Is that it?"

Hans grimaces as he's suddenly overwhelmed by the pain, strength leaving him collapsed, unable to rise.


	8. Careful What You Wish For

_This is not happening,_ Hans thinks, furious and incredulous in equal measure. He can taste metal at the back of his tongue. He’s light-headed and his muscles are screaming, unable to get enough oxygen from the water surrounding him – as if he can’t inhale, but _somehow_ he is going to _move._

Uma had just _left_ him. In silence. No pontificating, no threats, no clarification. Just a vulgar reference to claiming Elsa, now unchallenged.  Referring to Elsa as Hans’ chosen _mate,_ and making his blood boil.

Pushing himself up from the sea-bed Hans eventually manages to get up, but can’t think what to do once upright – can’t _think_ at all, he realizes with dread _._ In due course he succeeds in finding his way out and into open sea, feeling his way slowly past pain and blurred vision, only to curse loudly as he collapses again, the world whirling out of control, into darkness.

The world restarts almost violently, with an unnatural storm of black miasma mixing in the saltwater and a flash of blinding light. Excruciating pain and an awareness of breaching the water’s surface into dry air overwhelms Hans. He is cognizant of the bond, although practically broken, as he comes to rest on rocks and sand. With an absurd sense of relief, followed by immense concern, he thinks, _Elsa has come to the sea_.

Hans’ thoughts are interrupted by a terse command, spoken with unadulterated authority and immediately Hans knows - _King Triton_. And the sea-king is absolutely _livid._

There’s a heavy warmth precipitously placed atop and along his flank, shivering violently. At once every cell of his being having been graced by this analgesic pressure, finds strength and comfort, and the uncontrolled trembling subsides with a whimper.

 _Elsa_.

Hans struggles to raise his arms, seeking to confirm her existence. He blinks, unseeing, but finds soft flesh like the finest silk and the strength to take her into his arms surges, allowing him to seek the salvation that could only be found from her, to be made anew. The desire to claim her, make himself one with her and finally dash this incessant arousal is overwhelming. It all comes rushing through his skull, vivid, when her eyes meet his.

Elsa’s eyes are dark with equal parts agony and lust. No one has ever looked at him like this, so devastated with need. Hans falls upon her with hunger, sloppy and careless and _perfect._

The air is sodden and cool, but Elsa’s wet cheeks are warm under Hans’ hands and her mouth even more so, hot and sweet like glögg sipped too-impatiently just on the edge of comfort, burning gloriously all the way down until Hans doesn’t know if the feeling in his stomach is magic or pure old-fashion lust.

Elsa cants her hips into him, all instinct, no doubt seeking to escalate the fire burning within her. Hans feels it as well, racing uncontrolled towards what he suspects would be completion. He could happily offer her that, he decides, grasping at her hips to direct the movement, eliciting the most erotic keening sound he’s ever heard.

 _What perfectly matched, rabbit-hearted fools we are,_ Hans muses, bringing his arms around her tightly. He’s terrified she’s simply an illusion, that none of this could be real.  

A throat clears, rather dramatically.

 _"OKAY, BREAK IT UP!"_   Anna snaps, from a few meters away. She appears positively horrified to be witnessing her sister in the throes of passion with a decidedly _not dead_ Prince Hans, sporting a tail fin and nothing else. It’s like a drip of iced water onto his back, instantly dashing the flames of passion.

Elsa's eyes fly open, shocked blue looking more so as she flushes with embarrassment, reality affixing itself once more. She drops her forehead to his, he presumes to try and slow the tattoo of her heart.

"You're okay." Hans whispers gently, tucking an aberrant platinum lock behind her ear and pulling her back down to him. She shamelessly pours herself over him, despite the present audience, molding herself to his shape, snaking herself around him.

And resumes kissing him.   (Irritated little sister or not, it would seem Elsa isn’t satisfied. He won’t stop her.)

Elsa breaks from him and breathes, “That creature – she said she was going to end this.” Elsa looks beseechingly at his lips and returns to his mouth murmuring, “They stopped her. I want… _I just want…I need to feel whole._ ”

Hans nods his head slightly, _I know._

“You will be,” Hans murmurs without thought to what he is saying. His heart is heavy in his chest, dropping as the implications of her statement sink in. Uma was here. His Grandfather stopped her. Elsa is terribly overwhelmed by the magic.

Eventually Elsa breaks the kiss and clings to him, as if she will never let go. “Anyone telling you that breaking curses is easy and painless is selling something.” Elsa huffs. “Stupid fairy stories.”

Hans can’t help the explosive little laugh at that. “Indeed.”

Elsa’s buried herself into his neck and chest. Hans draws the flat of his palm in slow circles, orbiting her spine as she exhales in a faint sob - some sort of pathetic vocalization he interprets as _no_ before she deteriorates into a small fit of coughs.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, as I pledged to you.” Hans says. It’s the only thing Hans can think of to say, “I’d truly no idea there was more afoot here. You’re not safe.”

The fjord in banked in thick fog, turning to tiny snowflakes just where he and Elsa lay. There is a clamoring of voices, all competing for attention, surrounding them from both the land and sea – King Triton and Anna predominately. The tide is lapping at his fin, and Elsa has settled herself atop him in a most provocative manner. The sun is a blurred dot in an ashen sky. His chest still aches, his limbs weary as if he’s fought a behemoth in hand-to-hand combat, but with Elsa in his arms again the world settles back into true form, and Hans becomes aware of these things.

“Okay. I am officially freaking out now.” Anna says, avoiding the sight of Elsa laying in Hans’ arms, exchanging affections. Her voice has pitched-up an octave. “What just happened? And who _exactly_ are all you?”

Hans meets his grandfather’s gaze. He’s never seen the all-powerful ruler of the merpeople appear so distraught. Hans has no idea regarding what occurred after the world went dark, but it must have been significant for him to now be laying on a beach with Elsa in his arms and his grandfather revealing himself to humans.

Hans clears his throat and tries to speak, his voice coarse. "Grandfather, please allow me the honor of presenting to you Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle," he says while lifting a hand from his embrace to gesture, "and Her Royal Highness, Princess Anna of Arendelle.”

“That gentleman over there I have not had the pleasure of officially meeting yet,” Hans pauses, studying the native-looking man looming over Anna protectively, “although he has bared witness and can testify to the vicious punch Princess Anna is capable of."

"Ah, yeah. Kristoff Bjorgman, Your Majesty.” Kristoff says, awkwardly. “And she does, and you deserved it, sir."

Hans chuckles. He decides he likes him.

"Yes, I did deserve that punch, I dare say that it would be inappropriate to offer any explanation or any excuses, just...I apologize, and I pledge my life to protecting Arendelle from harm."

Anna’s glare is ruthless as she begins to huff something, but her expression turns fearful, laced with concern as Elsa sputters a harsh cough once more. Hans returns his arms to her, caressing her back.

_She should really quit drowning…_

Anna takes a cleansing breath, "You did, you deserve it and much more. I hate what you did, to me and to my sister. But words alone cannot describe how very thankful I am for you returning Elsa to me after the accident. I was that...that…just - _THANK YOU_."

Hans nods, “It was an honor, ma’am.”

“Princess Anna,” King Triton finally says with what Hans recognizes as mild amusement, “I am Triton, The Sea-King of Atlantica. You are already familiar with my grandson, Hans.” Triton gestures with his triton at those behind him, “These are my guards who were summoned by Fisk when he determined the location of the sea-witch’s lair.”

Hans chuckles, “You never were one for following my orders, were you, Fisk?”

“Not so much, Your Highness.” Fish says sarcastically. Hans grins.

Triton’s eyes settle on Hans and Elsa, laying in a heap in the beach, “And as for what just happened, I am afraid I can only tell you I have greatly underestimated the power my grandson possess, and he evidently enchanted Queen Elsa when he saved her life.”

Anna whistles low. “Hans was telling the truth…” Her eyebrows are raised as she looks to Hans, “That’s a first.”

Hans bites down on his urge to respond to Anna’s jab at him.

Instead Hans presses a chaste kiss to the damp hair clinging to Elsa’s temple as she shivers. Although an impossibility, Elsa curls herself further into Hans’ arms.

Anna looks immensely displeased. “So that confused, mixed-up octopus – she wasn’t in cahoots with Hans? She said the bond was breaking, and Elsa would be dead if she wasn’t taken to him. She convinced us it was the only way to save Elsa.”

“No.” Hans offers a shake of his head, sharing what he knowns. “She isolated me away from the fjord, then left me when she realized I was incapacitated by the magic splinted under the strain of the distance from Elsa. She wants Elsa, something about her magic she needs to _take her rightful place in the sea._ ”  He leaves out the rather lecherous parts, for now.

Triton says, “There is an old evil which has resurfaced, one who is clearly determined to challenge my throne. It seeks to use the Snow Queen’s magic to succeed. I intercepted her with Elsa and she released her in a cloud of ink, but I was unable to stop her. I fear the priority in the moment was returning Hans and Elsa to the fjord. Regardless, I will hunt her down, mark my words.”

The group falls silent.

“What now?” Kristoff asks. He crosses his arms in contemplation. “If Hans and Elsa get too far apart, we’ll be dealing with _this_ again. And then there’s the issue of that, whatever she was -thing - wanting Elsa’s magic.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” Elsa’s eyes are wide, anxious. “ _Please.”_

Hans brings a hand to cup her cheek, fingers curling into her damp hair.

Elsa says, almost under her breath, “You should not have saved me.”

“Not so,” Hans’ smile is tender. “I could no less live in a world without light than to know I could have saved you, but didn’t try. I fear your work here, in Arendelle, is not done, Your Grace.”

“But. _THIS._ This is too hard,” Elsa says, “I can’t. How many times must I be forced to succumb to the sea?”

“Grandfather,” Hans says. “Is there nothing you can do? I am a liability now. I can’t protect her, serve Arendelle, like this any longer.”

Triton sighs, jaw clenched in contemplation. Hans knows he’s not swayed.

Elsa’s breath is held as she looks to King Triton, “Sire, I need Prince Hans at my side. I will make whatever accommodations necessary.”

“No.” Triton give a shake of his head, “I won’t risk the entirety my kingdom without assurance of an alliance.”

“Wait.” Anna says confused. “ _What?_ ”

Hans feels as if he’s been thrown from the saddle – blindsided by a demand for an alliance.

Elsa’s evidently not so taken back, or fails to find this such an unexpected position to be in. “A betrothal then.”

Triton raises his chin, “Put simply.”

Hans opens his mouth to protest, negotiate further when Elsa slides a cold hand over his mouth, and not without firm pressure. His eyes dart to hers to find them hard, determined. Something dark, almost feral, flares in the depths of the blue, something he’d like to see what she could do with, if in another situation. A far more _private_ situation. He can’t look away.

“As heir, I was preferable.” Elsa says carefully, wetting her lips. “Was that it?”

Hans reaches for her arm, to force her to release his mouth but pauses with his fingers wrapped around her wrist as she murmurs, “Careful what you wish for, Prince Hans.” She doesn’t sound offended, nor does she sound angry – it’s not a threat. Hans hears _regret._ “They seldom come to fruition in the manner you intended.”

Elsa looks up at Triton, “Arendelle wishes to offer to the Southern Isles a marriage accord, and will agree to any stipulation necessary to align with the desires of the Kingdom of Atlantica.”

"I am sure King Anders will find such a proposal amenable," says King Triton.

Elsa looks back at Hans. She looks satisfied to have turned everything upside-down.

As Anna is doing a fine job at protesting violently, Hans feels little compelling him to be more aggressive in trying to free himself from Elsa’s grip than to draw his tongue across her palm clamped across his mouth. Her shocked reaction is truly splendid as something shifts in her eyes, something dark and carnal, a caught back breath as she shift her hips sensually against his.

Truthfully, Hans is failing miserably at finding any negative in this scenario for him, and grins. At that, Elsa lifts her hand, “You must earn everything, you understand.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Pointing his trident in the direction of the youngest Prince of the Southern Isles and the Queen of Arendelle, it illuminates - a bright blast of light reflecting off the waves as it makes contact with Prince Hans.


	9. A Harsh Reality

When Elsa said she needed Hans at her side, she meant literally. Evidently others thought that was something metaphorical (even Hans himself), because she is presently without Hans at her side, as she has been for almost six hours. Her chest now aches and the bond is slowly driving her mad with the way it frets her rational control away, calling to her to seek comfort from him.

Elsa can't help the miserable little sigh that escapes her as she presses her hand to the frame of the window in resignation.

"Stop fretting," Anna says suddenly, startling Elsa.

Anna is clearly irritated, standing in front of a small table in the dank attic, eyeing the items someone abandoned atop it, long forgotten.

"I'm not _fretting_."

Not exactly.

The bond is, at what little control Elsa has of her libido. But she's not fretting, as far as she's concerned. She'd likely use another word that Anna would dislike just as much.

"Well, stop _pining_ then."

(That's the word. Damn Anna for being so bloody observant.)

"Stop _brooding_ ," Elsa retorts quietly, shifting to the next widow trying to catch a clearer glimpse through the wavy glass. Fog has stuck to the fjord, hanging grey and dreary, making it harder to see Hans. But he's still there at the water's edge, and on two legs again.

As he lost his fin, he gained clothes - white breeches and a loose white shirt, undone at the collar and sleeves rolled slightly, enough to expose strong forearms. Elsa doubts the man has ever willingly worn anything so informal. In the heartbeat that followed his transformation, she frown at the loss of all that bare flesh to press herself against, something about the sensation addictive. He'd felt the loss as well, despite his smug little grin when she'd grumbled that his present state wasn't nearly as satisfying as when he was a merman.

_("Don't pretended that you don't want me just as desperately," he cooed. "I can feel it, and I know you feel it more."_

_Elsa delighted in pointing out that the human male's arousal can be extremely apparent, almost embarrassingly so._

_"You wouldn't," Hans said, incredulously._

_Elsa smiled sweetly, pressed her lips to his for a tender kiss that deepened to kindle something inside, then rose to join Anna._

_Hans looked furious.)_

Presently, Hans is crouched down, bare feet in the sand, before King Triton - who looks frustrated. Hans is gesturing slightly with gentle hands as he speaks. She'd give anything to hear what is being said.

"No. You owe me. I get to brood," Anna flips the cover of a dusty book open with a more force than probably necessary, causing Elsa's attention to dart to her sister and see a small plume of dust to waft up. Anna sneezes.

Elsa smiles slightly. "Bless you."

Anna grumbles something like _thanks_.

Returning to the castle with Anna while Kristoff remained with Hans to debrief with his Grandfather wasn't difficult, at the time. But the men had not returned, and Elsa finally resorted to watching the scene on the beach from an attic window down the west wing, the only one she could see them from. As Anna had resumed hovering, she followed Elsa.

Anna, in no uncertain terms, made it clear she disagreed with Elsa's verbal agreement to a betrothal and a rather quixotic alliance between kingdoms. Although she had managed to refrain from actually saying anything further than her initial explosive reaction on the beach, Elsa knows Anna needs to talk.

Anna has been able to control her ire as the day progressed, only scowling slightly at staff scurrying frantically to make arrangements for decidedly not dead Prince Hans to now reside not just in the castle, but in the adjoining quarters to the Queen.

"We probably need to talk about Hans," Elsa says.

Her anxious fingers twist together in an attempt to stop fidgeting, watching the book Anna opened thud closed, a smaller cloud of dust erupting this time, and Anna turns to face her.

"What's there to talk about?" Anna shrugs casually. Anna pauses, waits for Elsa to elaborate.

Elsa can't bring herself to say anything.

"I know you're not exactly in control of yourself, these disturbing romantic feelings you are directing at Hans. Right?"

Elsa nods.

"Hans didn't cause the storm that led to the accident, he didn't destroy the Flag ship. You didn't drown on purpose."

"No," Elsa says, small.

Anna looks out the window, down at Kristoff and Hans.

"But he is getting exactly what he wanted all those year ago." Anna says. Her eyes shift angry, dark. Elsa's rarely seen this side of her sister. "Years ago he wanted to make Arendelle his. To be King. Without regard for anyone who stood in his way."

"Trust that the irony in this is not lost on me," Elsa says, feeling timid before her sister. "He won't..."

Anna raises a placating hand, "...have any actual power. I assumed as much. I didn't really think you were going to share Arendelle with him. But."

Anna drops her chin and Elsa can't see what the haze in Anna's eyes might mean.

"He doesn't deserve you." Anna whispers.

Elsa has taken Anna into her arms before Anna can even finish her sentence, wrapping her arms tightly around Anna's shoulders as Anna shutters a soft sniff.

"No," Elsa says with a twist of her lips, "He does. He has no idea what a mess I am. I am stubborn and unyieldingly selfish. I am absolutely unreasonable privately, let alone when it comes to the wellbeing of my people and prosperity of my Kingdom. I know the gossip, I hear the talk. I'm no fool."

Anna giggles. It's an unhappy wet sound.

"Of course, not from you." Elsa says ruefully.

Anna pulls herself up and looks at Elsa. Anna looks defeated. "Your too good for him."

"Yes." Elsa agrees, "But I can't keep living like this, and things are only getting worse. I would be dead by the end of the week at this rate, if Hans stayed in the sea."

Anna is just staring, unfocused. Elsa desperately wants Anna's support, she's no idea how to manage without it.

"I hate this, Anna. You must know that. But this is...it will be an amiable solution."

Anna swallows thickly, "Yeah."

"He is not getting what he wanted with me. He is never going to have that power he lusted for."

"He'll never have control of Arendelle?" Anna asks bluntly. "What if you guys have a kid and he offs you? He'll just use the poor child as his puppet."

"Impossible."

"Ah, nope." Anna's eyes go wide, "Totally possible. This is Hans we are talking about."

"Anna, you don't understand." Elsa resists the groan trying to escape at that. Instead, her own eyes shift, "I _can't_."

"Can't?"

Elsa paces back to the window, Hans is now standing with Kristoff beside him. The mermen are nowhere to be seen. Hans is talking, Kristoff nodding in agreement with arms drawn tightly across his chest.

"Anna. I _can't_." Elsa says again. As if that clarifies everything.

"Yes you can. It could happen. He said he would stage a little accident for you. Hans would totally manipulate his own kid to do his bidding!"

Elsa pinches the bridge of her nose, screwing her eyes shut and hating having to say this out loud, as she never, ever, has.

"There will be _no child_."

Anna snorts, "I may not be married, but I know how babies are made. You are quickly heading the right direction with Hans to do just that, if the way you were carrying-on on the beach was any indication."

Elsa weaves a frustrated hand into her hair, shaking her head.

"Yes, Elsa. And if Hans is now human, and that stupid bond keeps pulling you together, it's going to happen."

"No." Elsa says, a pained plea to stop.

Anna has raised her voice, "How can you be so naive?!"

" _Stop_. It's. I _can't_ carry a child. My magic," Elsa draws a shaky breath, "I can't. I'm not meant to be a mother."

"What?"

_Oh god - how to explain?_

"I _can't_. Papa got suspicious when I never bled." Elsa is mortified to have to share this, "What good is a Crown Princess who can't extend the line? Not only was I dangerous, but unable to perform the most fundamental duty to my Kingdom."

Anna's gone pale, "What? What happened?"

"There were years of... _invasive_ , frightening exams. One specialist from across the world after another, all coming to the same ultimate conclusion." Elsa wraps cold arms across her middle, curling in on herself and fighting the freeze that wants to be released.

"Papa and I agreed that I would have to abdicate to you when you had a child, as to prevent instability in the Kingdom. He couldn't arrange a betrothal, or rather, wouldn't. He and Mama saw no point in trying. They knew you would be okay."

The dusty attic falls painfully silent. This was not how she ever imagined having this conversation.

"Elsa - I'm _so_ sorry? I had no idea."

Elsa swallows the bile threatening, simply nodding instead.

"Why didn't Mama stop all that? She should have protected you." Anna asks.

Elsa feels the bitterness spilling out, "She blamed herself for my curse. Felt it was somehow her fault.  She was powerless to intervene with Papa."

"I don't even know what to say." Anna looks horrified. "I. How is it our relationships were so different with the same parents? The people you speak of sound like monsters."

Elsa has wondered the same thing, "I am the abomination, not simply cursed with magic, but also denied the opportunity to bear a child. I feel Papa and Mama did the best they could."

Anna frowns harder.

"Anyway, Papa and I agreed on what was right for our people."

"You're not really going to do that, right?" Anna sounds somewhat panicked.

"It is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand," Elsa manages. "Granted I have control of my magic now, thus not nearly as dangerous."

Elsa huffs a self-depreciating laugh, "I likely offer the greatest stability to Arendelle in that respect. After all, we've remained at peace since I ascended to the throne."

"I'm sorry Elsa. But," Anna shakes her head, watching as Kristoff and Hans make their way back to the castle, "just promise me you aren't settling."

Elsa laughs. There is a genuine lilt to it, "I am practically of an age where it is obscene to remain unwed - rumors of my taste and preferences becoming quite lewd. I know you've heard them, too."

Anna sighs, "Yeah. Wait 'till the rumor-mill get wind of all this."

"Something official is being drawn up, to explain Hans' return and his future roll. As well as announce my intentions," Elsa says.

Anna nods, crossing her arms and slouching into the window sill.

"And frankly, Hans was punished for his crimes, in a rather noble fashion, in my opinion. As well as saved my life. Repeatedly. A marriage between the Southern Isles and Arendelle, with ties to the Great and Powerful Sea-King, offers a significant dynastic advantage. When no child comes from the union, assumption will be that I am unwilling to submit to him, not that I am unable to conceive."

"So you're just resigning yourself to a wretched fate?" Anna says.

"Nonsense. I just see the opportunity that lies within a bad situation." Elsa says, "Now. It would seem my fiancée is returning to the castle, and I should probably greet him properly."

Anna rolls her eyes. "Fine."


	10. A Fate Deserved

Hours ago the fog made Hans' mind clearer - something about being able to draw breath and watch himself push steam into the air. What should have been instinctive was now an odd, unfamiliar sensation as he became accustomed to his new shape. Hans releases a breath in a huffed plume, staring into the dark fjord and trying to come to terms with recent epiphanies.

_"Magic, such as hers, will end my Kingdom," Triton had said. He spoke without anger or judgement, rather simply stated fact. "I've known there would be one with the power, eventually. The power to isolate and starve my oceans from the air and sun. One who could destroy the delicate ecosystems of the sea. When Queen Elsa unleashed her potential, freezing my northern waters, I knew it was her. She would be the key to my undoing. Evidently I was not the only one to take notice."_

It took hours to unravel things to a few simple truths.

One: Triton had found Hans collapsed near what appeared to be Uma's lair. Hans shared he suspected the sunken ship was Arednellian, Triton confirmed that evidence suggested the wreckage was indeed the final resting place of the late King and Queen. Neither merman (or rather, now man or merman), believed Uma to be so short-sighted as to return.

Two: There was the truth that Uma was looking to take power over the seas as well as revenge, retribution for what King Triton had done to Ursula and Morgana (but unlike her mother (or aunt), it would seem she knows the key to Triton's undoing). Intuitively Hans feels that Uma's sense of entitlement may stem from something else as well, but frankly he's in no position to press for more from his Grandfather.

Three: Uma had begun to extract Elsa's magic from her once she had Elsa in her clutches, preying upon the Snow Queen. King Triton failed to elaborate _how_ , how Elsa may have been harmed (especially after Hans' rage became unhelpfully evident). Triton said simply that despite Elsa being near death, he believed Elsa was resisting Uma when he found her. Hans is struggling with that. To hear of such cruelty...with a sickening roll of nausea Hans finds need to destroy the sea-witch, unable to stop the surge of possessive anger. (He wants his fin back so he can find Uma himself. Triton said _no_.)

Four: King Triton has a very healthy regard for Queen Elsa. If he were anyone other than the Great and Powerful ruler of the sea, Hans would likely classify it as fear. Triton needs Elsa's support. Binding Hans to Elsa through marriage is absolutely to the Sea-King's advantage.

Five: And then there was the truth behind the siren's bond - information Hans wishes he had before using it, although he suspects it wouldn't have changed his decision when he found Elsa drowned, just given reason to hesitate longer. His Grandfather cited it as primary justification for a betrothal. Just in case Hans is successful.

(An archaic remnant of magic from a time when there were so few of the species, leaving little option for overall survival except to seek a human mate - the powerful magic able to bind to the chosen human for a lifetime. Triton promised an old sage was to be consulted regarding this, once she was located. Hans isn't feeling very reassured with that.)

Six: Not that Hans has a low threshold for pain, and nor will he complain about it, but he has become unaccustomed to standing on feet. Although it may not be of great significance, it still hurts.

"You royals certainly do make a mess out of magic," Kristoff says, smirk plastered to his face and interrupting Hans' thoughts.

When Kristoff has Hans' attention he turns, throwing his head over his shoulder in a come on already motion.

Kristoff has heard everything, thus has reason to make such an accusation. Hans looks at the man, arms crossed to his chest as he tries to process a response. Hans really can't. It is a mess.

"Thank you for that assessment," Hans says finally.

Kristoff huffs a laugh. It sound like ' _you're_ _welcome_ '.

Kristoff's stride is slow, but confident, as he leads Hans back towards the castle.

With his next step, Hans suddenly can recall laughing gregariously as a boy at an odd sight on a beach, one thanks to his Queen Mother - the sight of neatly ordered stockings and shoes on a woolen blanket waiting on the sand, a baker's dozen pairs of footwear arranged by birth order greeting him and his brothers upon arriving on the Southern Isles beaches following under-sea visits with his Grandfather.

He knows now _why_ she did it.

The skin of Hans' feet are blistered, flesh torn open to punish him for every step he takes - it feels as if he's trodden on sharp knives.

"So you're now the lynchpin keeping Elsa sane and essentially uniting three Kingdoms?" Kristoff says, somewhat sarcastic and sudden.

Hans momentarily forgets the pain as what Kristoff says sinks in. It is rather absurd to think.

"Good to know I am useful." Hans sighs. "Evidently."

Kristoff huffs another laugh.

Hans was taught, years ago, that the job of the lesser princelings (and there were no lesser than him) was to be politically useful. So Hans knows by now how to serve as a proud ornament, a collection of accomplishments. He will always be that; he will always want to succeed. But somehow, bound to Elsa and called to her, he wants be so much more as well. He can endure whatever pain necessary to be useful.

Hans realizes he has difficulty with trying to place Kristoff's accent, distinctively northerner.

"Forgive me, but what is your heritage? Laplander?" Hans knows nothing of this man who evidently speaks his mind, aside from his obvious affection for Princess Anna. She must be absolutely enamored with him, as well as the rest of the Arendelle court, for him to still be around after all these years.

"Yeah," Kristoff says, his voice rings with years of discrimination at the observation, yet is unoffended. "Sami. Raised by good folks who know good magic. And use it right."

"Unlike me," Hans supplies. No need for Kristoff to hide his distaste, Hans decides.

"Listen," Kristoff stops, turning to face Hans. There is something complex in his gaze, betraying the turmoil he must be conflicted with. "Don't mistake my help for anything like friendship. I'm doing this for Elsa."

"I appreciate your honesty," Hans senses there may actually be more to his help, but sees no value in pressing for that information in this moment. "I am also doing this for Elsa."

"Not that you could help yourself."

Hans sighs. It is mortifying to say aloud.

"Good luck explaining that one." Kristoff frowns, offering some vague impersonation (of Hans), " _Glad I could save your life. By the way, now you're my mate."_

Hans bristles angrily at that, "You'd do well to remember that Queen Elsa is neither animal nor beast, mindlessly fornicating because instinct demand it."

"You're going to have to tell Elsa," Kristoff says, looking mildly impressed. "And sorry if I offended, but that is essentially what's happened."

Hans hates how this man is right, "I will have to figure out how to tell her. This is something one must not simply blurt out thoughtlessly."

As you just demonstrated, Hans does not say.

"You realize Anna will do her level best to make things as painful as possible for you?" Kristoff shakes his head as he pivots towards an unassuming door.

"I think that is a given, although I never meant for any of this to happen - I intended to remain out of mind for her, as well as Elsa."

"Think you failed there."

Hans decides that Kristoff must enjoy stating the obvious bluntly, in an odd, socially-inept way. As Hans finds no reason to respond further, he simply falls silent.

Kristoff leads them through what Hans recognizes as servant's halls. They eventually arrive at a door, the Queen's apartments Hans gathers, that Kristoff hesitates to knock upon.

Kristoff grinds his teeth before offering a quick rap on the wood. Without waiting for a clear response, Kristoff is twisting the knob.

Hans hates this almost bewildered hope he has that since he's now human, the bond will be weaker, less persistent. Although he can sense no difference in quality or intensity, not yet, maybe it is for Elsa.

As Elsa quickly joins him in her private drawing room, precise and careful with no wasted movements, eyes fixed on him, Hans knows. The bond is as effective as ever in drawing her to him. Elsa seems to betray clearly that her control is about to shatter, regardless of who sees, or who knows. She looks like she is about to devour him.

" _Hans_."

The way Elsa sighs his name she may well be a siren herself. He'd eagerly tame seas or go to the ends of the Earth for her, and can feel his smile spill across his mouth despite the fact her gaze fixes itself to the floor beneath his feet, frowning.

Kristoff, thankfully, is astute enough to recognize the inevitably of it all. And so it is with a blatant disregard for what should be protocol that he offers a respectful nod to Elsa and grabs Anna's hand, leaving no room for argument as he makes his leave.

"We'll talk in the morning?" Kristoff asks under his breath to Elsa while shooting a threatening glance at Hans.

"Of course," Hans says quickly.

Anna looks so openly shocked, lips parted with a caught-back breath, that Hans almost laughs.

Anna has a confused glare leveled on Kristoff which fails to impress the man as he proceeds to shoo her towards the door.

Elsa wets her lips, looking pathetically incapable of responding with anything other than the short nod she gives to Kristoff.

Hans fully expects her to surge forth, impulsive and frantic at him.

When she fails to do so, he does, forgetting the agony each step causes him.

She's in that beautiful icy gown she wears, but it's dry this time, unlike the other times he's been graced with the honor to touch her, and it feels nothing like the cold iced fragments and tiny sharp edges, almost like sparkling scales, that it might be made of. It's cool and silken instead, and he can feel every subtle curve and edge of her underneath. Elsa arches on her toes once he's standing in front of her, snags the collar of his shirt with her hands and kisses him hard, bruising and punishing and desperate. Hans' arms band tight around her waist, hauling her body in close against him until she can feel the pounding throb of his heartbeat in time with hers.

"We have - " Hans manages when her lips shift from his slightly to allow for air, " - much to discuss."

"Stop talking," she mumbles, there is a delightful keen that escapes with her gruff command. It's visceral and instinctual and pours heat into his veins.

Then she stops. Stops kissing him.

_Don't ever stop..._

Elsa frowns, hard. "You're hurt?" It's like she just remembered what she had been thinking earlier.

 _Oh_. His feet.

"Not really, just unaccustomed to walking on land. The friction..." he mumbles, biting her bottom lip, stroking with his tongue to encourage her to return to kissing him.

She doesn't.

" _Please_." Elsa pants. She ducks her chin, calling out to Kristoff, "Send for a physician to tend to Prince Hans. He'll need bandages."

There is a grunted ' _sure_ ' in response. At least that is what Hans thinks Kristoff might have said before a door shuts loudly.

"I'll be fine, Elsa." Hans attempts to reassure with a steadying hand caressing her back. Her eyes roam over him with concern as she studies him. It feels so natural that Hans' lips tug a confused smile.

"The bond? You need - "

Her lips are so soft that they may be all he needs until the end of time, he thinks madly as she kisses him.

"I need." Elsa says like a filthy confession, oddly reassuring. "But not if you are hurt."

Elsa is so open with her expressions, the desire raging within her written plainly in her eyes, that Hans fails to argue. He wonders if she is so open with everyone these late years, or if this is simply another cruel facet of the magic he cursed her with. She's nothing like the rigid, calculating young monarch he met at her coronation.

At present, she is half-mad with lustful, wanton urges. And every fiber of her is his. So Hans has to resume kissing her.

Elsa smears her grin into his skin when a soft rap at the door is heard a very, very short time later. She fails to answer, instead enraptured in the different ways she can just kiss him while standing up, hands roaming his frame and learning his shape (it is new, and Hans finds their difference in height absolutely ideal for such an act, she's a perfect fit against him).

There is a startled cough and a stuttered, "Your Majesty."

A throat clears, "The physician has arrived for Prince Hans."

Elsa extracts herself from Hans' embrace with an air of authority, and Hans watches as the weight of the Crown settles upon her once more. She gives soft commands without a hint of apology or embarrassment to the physician, then to a valet, and settles herself in a corner chair with a book as Hans is ushered away to be cared for.

After Hans is bathed, wounds tended and bound, and offered a light meal with the first glass of wine he's tasted in years (something dark without heavy astringency, with hints of savory notes - Hans assumed Elsa would prefer whites, he is pleasantly surprised), he finds himself exhausted and being led by Elsa to her bedchamber.

Hans' fingers are woven between hers, cherished and adored, as she pulls him over her, all bare skin, soft and warm as they become one - it is by far the most meaningful and intense experience of his life. His world suddenly focuses with clarity, his purpose and role to remain at this angel's side calling to him, to spend a lifetime adoring reverently and serving. It is with dream-like perfection they reach completion, together - Elsa giving a faint cry like a young bird of prey. It leaves sleep to claim him peacefully with Elsa curled along his side, her breath steady across his flesh. Hans' last lucid thought is that there is no way he deserves to be rewarded with a lifetime of this fate.

When Elsa startles awake a short time later, rightful mind firmly in place without influence of the bond, and delivers a confused and furious shove to his side which translates very clearly into _get_ _away_ , Hans realizes he does deserve this.


	11. Waxing and Waning

Elsa had forced Hans from her bed as soon as she woke and found herself, well, _herself_. No bond clouding her mind - nestled lovingly into Hans' side, limbs entwined. Despite the prevailing circumstances of remembering every intimate moment and word of adoration with clarity, she felt almost incensed and wanted him away.

Hans looked heartbroken.

Elsa then proceeded to reduce herself into a puddle of tears, incapacitated in the middle of her bedsheets, conflicted and sobbing. She's no idea why the tears felt like a disappointment, like she was yet again a failure.

And in all this Hans wouldn't leave (she even unleash her ice to make her point). Instead the man stubbornly settled himself at the side of her bed, wrapped in a blanket and knelt on the floor and patiently awaiting her storm of emotions to subside long enough for her to pick one. One for him to react to.

Elsa did eventually calm herself. She was ready to talk, rationally. Hans shared everything he knew, what had transpired the day before, what King Triton had said. Elsa remembered nothing of Uma, but something inside broke at the tale. Immediately Hans took Elsa into his arms, wrapping himself around her as she fell apart again.

Elsa was unprepared for how readily he alleviated her grief and anxiety. In the end she thawed her ice as her eyes drifted closed, the rhythmic drumming of Hans' heart soothing her restless mind and his steady hand charting circles, soothingly, across her back.

And then Hans, absolutely mortified, quietly tried to explain the origins of the sirens magic.

Upon learning that bit of information, Elsa settled upon anger as the dominant emotion. But Hans wouldn't rise to the occasion and give her anything satisfying to fight with or against - making her feel even more like a monster. ( _You idiot! Don't you see, I can't. You've gone and enchanted one who can't 'mate', Elsa did not say._ )

Elsa was so taken back by how stubbornly Hans was staying put despite the return of hoarfrost which coated every surface of the room and the livid icy sorceress before him, that when he abruptly suggested she may feel a little better after a warm bath she had agreed - finding herself scooped into his arms and carried to her bath once it was drawn.

She let him. (No idea why.)

The sensation of being carried in his arms, her skin pressed to his, was so comforting she felt as if she'd melt into him before they got to the tub. Then he had to go and ruin it when he dared to brush his lips to the crown of her head, a chaste and endearing gesture, a soft apology murmured into her hair.

With that she remembered her preference for being angry with him, and had to regain some semblance of control over the situation. The lack of perfumed oil in her bath water was how. Evidently. In this moment, she could control that. _(She's being petty.)_

Hans' back is bare and to Elsa as he stands, soft lamp light blurring his edges. He's studying the tray of exotic perfumes and botanical oils set beside the claw foot tub. The additional jars of salts and talc, silver scoops laid aside to measure with, seem to confuse him further as he lifts the lid of one to test its aroma.

Elsa can faintly detect mint in the air. One of Anna's favorites.

She watches, somewhat shamelessly at this point, as the corded muscles of Hans' shoulders, as well as muscles located distally, flex and shift with each movement he makes. She thinks of the Italian marbled statues she's seen on display, the classical studies of nude form, carved such that they portray the precipice of motion.

Hans doesn't seem the least bit embarrassed to be naked as the day he was born, right before her. Elsa won't deny she's rather uncomfortable in her own nudity, but refuses to cover and hide herself from him. If he's not feeling shy, she won't be, either. Not now, anyway.

Hans puts the jar down, running a hand through his hair that won't stay in place. Another auburn lock slips across his forehead when he picks up another bottle, an oil. The indecisive Prince needs a haircut, Elsa decides.

_Just pick one already..._

"I want the French one." Elsa says, impatient. After a pause, "The purple bottle."

Hans immediately selects the small purple bottle, ornate and faceted - a work of art in and of itself. The perfumed bath oil was gift from her late mother. She's rarely used it, although it is absolutely her favorite - gardenias and jasmine. It reminds her of summer, of happiness, of a wish made with a held-back breath.

"Hm," Hans' voice hints at humor as he turns the purple bottle in his hand. "Given that the perfumery's name is written in French, I probably would have been able to figure that out on my own. But thank you for the hint."

_What?_

Elsa's arms freeze, fingers stopping the weave of her loose hair atop her head, to keep up and out of the water. She narrows her eyes in disbelief, "You're teasing me?"

Elsa can now hear his grin, "Yes." He turns. There is a smile.

"You really find that wise?"

Hans pretends not to hear her, instead pulls the crystal stopper out and gently inhales. His expression becomes complex - lost in a memory. His mouth pulls like sucking pith. Hans seems to struggle finding words, his eyes pained as he sets a soft smile.

"It's beautiful." Hans says finally, holding something else back.

"Yes." Elsa says, genuinely in no mood for conversation. She's feeling rather shrew-like.

When she continues to simply stare at him, not adding further remark, Hans murmurs, "You wore this at your coronation?"

Elsa blinks. Then shrugs as she settles back into the tub, bubbles separating in her wake. She has no recollection of what perfumed oil she may have used that day. She was too focused on how disastrous the day may go. Would go. Did go.

"I don't recall. Why would you?"

Hans looks sheepishly at her, "I'm unsure. Perhaps overwhelmed with the return of my sense of smell? Under-the-sea, scent is very different." Hans shakes his head in apology, "But. This reminds me of you."

"Appropriate that it does, as it is mine." Elsa sinks further into the water, relishing the way it scalds at her skin. Hans was right, this may help tame her and wash away a bit of the anger, leaving behind a very tired and achy Elsa. She rests her head back on the lip of the tub and sighs indulgently.

Hans chuckles, adding the perfumed oil to the water for her. Swirling gently, he sends faint waves sloshing against the side.

She's no earthly idea why she's allowing any of this, allowing him to care for her - guilt, probably. Not that she should be the one to feel culpable for this awful predicament. Hans enchanted her, not the other way around. But there is this terrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach each time she thinks about how she's behaving - hot and cold with little in between. Again, a bit shrew-like, if she's honest. And she does feel guilty.

She takes a deep breath then murmurs, "I'm sorry that I'm not being... _very nice_. This is difficult."

"No, none of this is yours to own," Hans sighs as he sits beside her on a stool, arms pressed to his knees. He twines his fingers together in contemplation. "Your apology is wildly out of place, Your Grace, truly."

"Regardless. I am sorry." Elsa studies his profile, the way the shadows play off his features. He is trying so hard to do the right thing.

Elsa lets her weary eyes drift closed as tendrils of longing unfurl in her veins, for him. "I am grateful for my life, despite how strange it may have become to navigate."

Elsa wonders where the sudden yearning of desire came from as she hears Hans rise, humming his agreement to her words. She cracks an eye open to watch as he retrieves a glass of water from her bedside to offer her as he returns to sit at the stool. She wonders suddenly about the way her feelings towards him wax and wane like the tide.

Elsa waves him off silently, motioning for him to help himself to the water.

That's all she needs, she thinks - Anna to discover first thing in the morning that Prince Hans of the Southern Isles had bedded her. Or she bedded him. Before the marriage accord could even be accepted officially by the Southern Isles.

_Ugh_...

She says, "You don't have to stay. You should probably return to your own quarters."

Hans pulls a strange face, staring down the contents of her glass after taking a sip. He swallows, following with a second sip which leads to an even more alarmed expression.

It only takes a moment for Elsa to process what Hans may be thinking, and at that she whoops a surprised laugh, genuine and loud, at him. It almost hurts with it's intensity, the laughter causing her to forget herself entirely - especially after the highly annoyed glare Hans shoots her. She laughs harder then, having to gasp for breath.

Hans sets the offending glass of water down.

"It's sweet, isn't it?" Elsa manages eventually. She can't keep a straight face.

Hans looks bewildered, "I suppose that's how I would describe it. I thought it was simply water."

Elsa pulls herself from the tub, accepting Hans' aid with the cloth to wrap herself. She's still giggling as she turns to face Hans, who is now smiling rather confused, awaiting Elsa to share her joke. He has a nice smile.

Elsa's cheeks ache with her wide grin, "It is just water. Fresh water. I had the same odd perception of taste after you saved me - the strangeness wears off in a few days."

Hans shoots a funny glance at the glass, testing another sip. " _Why does it - ?"_

"No idea. I am guessing something about the saltiness of the sea. But you're the merman, you'd have to tell me." Elsa presses her lips tight, suppressing a grin and turns on her heel, padding silently back towards her bed.

Hans follows.

"I don't ever remember this," Hans says, still distracted by the water.  "Water always tasted like, water."

Elsa abandons her drying cloth, draping it across the back of a chair as she scurries into bed, drawing covers over herself. When she settles, she looks up at Hans, who's waiting expectantly at the side of her bed.

_Oh_.

And she realizes she can feel the bond, desire, tugging at her to welcome him back into her arms. She wants him here, almost irrationally.

It is irrational - and he must feel it, too. His eyes are darkened, fixed on her, hungry.

The silence blooms around them, something fragile and still as magic seems to weave a web, trapping them. Elsa feels a heat ignite within her, a fire that can only be satisfied by him. Her cheeks flush with desire, she's certain.

"That happened fast."

Hans nods, eyes searching for permission to join her as he slowly lowers himself. No explanation needed regarding what _that_ is.

"Send me away or tell me no." Hans says reassuringly. "You are in control, I promise. I won't make this worse for you."

Elsa pulls back the linens to allow him enter, unable to suppress the caught-back moan at the brush of his fingers at her hip, pulling her towards him.

"You can't be found here come sunrise," Elsa says simply.

"I won't."

"What's happening to us? Is it always going to be like this?"

Hans shakes his head, "I don't know. But we're going to figure this out. Together."

                  oOOooOOo

Certain _idiosyncrasies_ become apparent in the next few days.

The bond is quieted following _intimate_ _acts_. It isn't permanent, rather stays repressed for a couple hours, but helpful to know if there is something on the schedule that truly needs Elsa's undivided attention.

The longer Elsa stays away from Hans, the stronger and more persistent the magic becomes. Six hours is about the longest she can tolerate and remain sane before needing to seek out his presence, brushing fingers across his bare skin - that alone is often enough to steady her for a short time.

Oh, and if Hans sings, Elsa comes.

This was accidentally discovered during a council meeting. Elsa was furious as she stumbled upon him grooming Sitron in the stables, humming some folk-tune to the bloody steed as he was being brushed down. Hans had the nerve to laugh. Then try it again an hour later while hiding in the library.

It's going to be a very _trying_ fate...


	12. Something That Wasn't There Before

Hans awakens, not exactly disoriented, but certainly on the edge of confusion when gravity shifts and cool air comes in a rush over his sleep-warmed skin. He can smell gardenias and jasmine. It would seem his nightly intruder has returned.

Again.

Hans doesn't need to open his eyes to know that it is Elsa.

"I can't help but wonder," Hans pauses to yawn, then can't help the fondness slowly seeping into his voice, "That if you simply allowed me to sleep beside you, then we both might make it to first daylight restfully."

Elsa has already slithered silently, without need of invitation, under his bed linens - a cool hand charts a course to conquer his torso with familiarity. She pulls herself to rest practically atop him, face nestling into the crook of his neck as she settles. Elsa inhales, almost indulgently - a softly whimpered response to his observation.

He thinks of a small child seeking comfort in a silken blanket, safe and secure. Hans smiles sleepily at that. He likes Elsa when she's like this - pliant and affectionate. Hans can almost fool himself into believing that she genuinely cares for him in these moments, that she genuinely needs him, and not because of some insipid magic. Hans allows his arms to envelop her, holding her soundly as she returns heavy breathes. Asleep. Already.

Hans is fairly certain she'll not remember seeking him out when she awakes later.

Since Elsa implemented this (awful) campaign for nocturnal independence, refusing to allow Hans to stay with her through the night after an embarrassing conversation with Anna last week, she's essentially found her way to him every night. In her sleep.

Hans doesn't mind; he had told Elsa that she was being ridiculous (as if their situation could be more absurd). Those were the wrong words to offer his betrothed - she's as bullheaded as the Southern Isles' Crown Prince (Caleb can be most frustrating). Hans' words only increased Elsa's resolve that her decision was final.

Hans has learned through quiet observation of Elsa and those courtiers and council who surround her, that Elsa is obsessed with failure - not of others, but herself. Almost cruelly unable to take genuine pleasure in her own good works as there is always a facet of them that could be improved upon in her eyes. Never good enough.

He's learned other little things - Elsa is a cunning chess player (ruthless may be a more appropriate word), she secretly adores romance novels (filthy little bits of rubbish she keeps hidden away), and despite being a brilliant strategic thinker - Elsa is insecure. There is hesitance in her decisions, unless she is driven on emotion in the moment. (In those moments, she cannot be persuaded, regardless of the irrationality of what she has chosen).

She is strong, she is beautiful, she is unlike any women he has ever known, and presently, she is snoring softly.

Hans has taken to watching her sleep in the pre-dawn hours, before she disappears to her own quarters to maintain the illusion for Anna she's demanding. He thinks of where they are, with not a word from the sea regarding locating the old sage to try and break the bond - nor the whereabouts of Uma, things have settled between Hans and Elsa, akin to peace regarding their fate.

It is at the break of morning light that Hans takes pleasure in watching Elsa's eyes blink sleep away, fluttering open. Her breath sounds like resignation.

" _Again_?" Her voice is thick with sleep, quite adorably.

Hans murmurs unhelpfully, "Good morning, Your Grace. And before you ask - I was not singing."

Elsa responds to his teasing with a weak tug at his earlobe, eliciting a soft laugh from Hans.

Hans doesn't need to shift position to brush his lips across the soft skin of her wrist, pressing affection as apology.

Blue eyes drift shut with a ghost of a smile playing at her lips. The smile is stubbornly refusing to bloom, refusing to offer any encouragement to Hans for his behavior. He has become addicted to this peculiar morning ritual.

"Nonetheless you are to blame." Elsa says, but it lacks any true bite.

She's not yet making motions to leave or extricate herself from his arms. Hans calculates he has a few minutes to enjoy this particular brand of Elsa before she is awake enough to move.

Hans say, "Of course."

Elsa hums in satisfied agreement.

It is only after Hans begins to wonder if Elsa had dozed off once more she seems to muster her pride and the initiative to get up.

"Elsa - "

Her chin drifts over her shoulder as she perches on the edge of the bed, her cheeks still lightly flushed pink from the warmth of sleep and loose hair spilling down her bare back. She's beautiful.

" - you may want to..." Hans gestures with his fingers, mimicking motions he's seen her make as she conjures and weaves her icy fabric.

Elsa glances down at herself, bare skin looking ethereal in the early morning light. She sighs heavily, irritated hand fluttering fingers as she creates her gown, quietly flinging a few creative adjectives in Hans' general direction, likely for good measure, as she rises on her way to the door.

Hans simply rolls to his side and enjoys the view. Concern pulls at him regarding his growing fondness for her, regardless of her temperamental moods. Concern for what this is becoming for him - bond or not, he suspects he can not live without her. Without this.

* * *

 

The matched set of gold crowns are exquisitely wrought with the largest and finest quality pearls Hans has ever seen, other precious gems scattered at the peaks of the headpieces. The pair is a perfect culmination of Southern Isles craftsmanship and the most treasured jewels from his Grandfather's sea - Hans has never seen their equal. The matched crowns are priceless.

Elsa holds what will be Hans' Consort crown (less ornate and grand than what will be her own - but just as priceless) in trembling hands, and hasn't spoken a word since she opened the presentation box that was delivered by the Southern Isles' guards earlier. It was accompanied by the signed marriage accord and a personal note - the royal wedding now confirmed to occur in three weeks time.

Her lips are pulled thin, blue eyes dark in contemplation. Hans wonders what has her mind stuck like sap in winter - perhaps concern she has already conceived.

Hans has done the math - should he and Elsa be _successful mating_ prior to the union, the timing of the birth will be inconsequential. Almost expected. When she is heavy with child, then welcoming their babe - there will be immense joy without hint of scandal. He's heard the talk.

A hush with the tension of teetering glass has fallen over the guards and servants in the room before Elsa's expression breaks into triumph.

"We are to be _married_." Elsa says. She laughs and turns to him, eyes like a tinderbox.

"It would seem so," Hans smiles, taking delight in her joy. If these gifts had arrived even a week ago, Elsa's reaction may have been very different - _colder_. Literally and figuratively. She's finally found pleasure in their odd routine, in them - who they can be. Something that wasn't there before.

The awe that rims Elsa's eyes is like bruising fatigue in the times the bond is strongest. In the steady light of her expression, Hans feels unbreakable. Invincible.

(It's just magic, he reminds himself.)

* * *

 

He finds that the opportunity to improve his (idle) situation has finally presented itself. So he is going to stand his ground. Today. Now. In Elsa's library.

Elsa cants herself into Hans, running wandering fingers up his arms with a grin. Hans knows what she wants, the satisfaction she's seeking from him, but she's ignored him, tended to her duties, for the better half of the day and he's bored out of his mind.

He was not meant for idle endeavors such a being a Queen's paramour.

"What are you reading?" Elsa takes note of the books resting on the table before him. She is neither subtle nor coy with her intentions when she pushes the books to the side and hops up to sit on the table, between Hans's legs. Elsa traps her bottom lip between her teeth as she draws Hans to her by a lapel.

"Arendelle tax codes," Hans says. He's playing obtuse. "You know, your system is rather antiquated - simply restructuring a few of your industrial goods would allow for a more effective..."

Elsa's drawn him towards her slowly to press her lips to his, momentarily ceasing all mental activities from him.

"How very interesting," Elsa purrs between strokes of her clever tongue. Hans can feel himself get lost in that.

" _Elsa_." Hans pauses, takes her jaw into his hands, steadying her. He frowns, "I need something to do aside from waiting with baited breath to satisfy your every desire."

Her eyes betray how amused she finds his statement, but she has the decency to suppress her smile. "You wanted to be Consort, if I recall correctly. I think _this_ is part of the job description."

Hans can't help but huff a laugh (evidently they are now able to tease about what happened a lifetime ago), "I wish to be more than simply a stud, siring your offspring."

He watches something complex flares in her eyes, a sudden sadness fogging the bright blue. She looks _guilty_.

"You know what I mean." Hans says softly, afraid he has offended her. He hopes that she realizes he also is teasing. "Please, I'm going mad with boredom. Let me help you with something. Give me purpose."

He desperately wants to know what is running through her mind as she studies him. She usually won't share the inner workings of her mind with him.

"Accompany me this afternoon to my next ministry meeting," Elsa offers easily, and if she were anyone else Hans would be instantly suspicious. "It will have you redefining boredom."

Elsa's sudden smile is bright as she tangles her legs around him, encourages his response when he stares in awe of how simple just asking for what he wanted was.

And it occurs to him _why_.

"You trust me?" Hans says with sheer wonder.

Elsa laughs, light and uncomplicated. "Enough."

A day later and, "I have no desire to go to the shore, regardless of who it is who is requesting audience." Elsa speaks slowly, defiant.

There is a distinct chill in the late summer air, and it is not coming from the open windows. And Hans feels no awe with his betrothed.

The trade minister will be most displeased, Hans thinks watching Elsa's quill move haphazardly - she's crossed out half the tariff that they spent be better half of the afternoon negotiating. Rather, Hans negotiated. Elsa doesn't look up from the vaguely violent and arbitrary revisions she is making to meet Hans' gaze. She's being obstinate.

"I much prefer dry land. King Triton can take-on legs and join me in my throne room, should he desire to meet."

Elsa has refused to go anywhere near the beaches since Hans took-on legs (as she puts it), even avoided the docks. Hans hadn't thought much of it - but now she's just being _rude_.

" _Elsa_." Hans says, now throughly exasperated at her. "We're talking, not going for a swim."

Elsa's chin snaps up, the jut of it all challenge, "I said _NO._ "

Hans hates that one can't properly argue with a Crown, but instead one must benevolently manipulate as necessary, for the Crown's own good, when they are being foolishly stubborn.

Hans wishes, frustratedly (because he is a grown man who does not make fairy wishes), that he had known his Grandfather would have news for them this afternoon. He wouldn't have given into Elsa's desires an hour ago - Elsa is far more accommodating when the bond has firm hold of her.

"I understand you may have some anxiety. But King Triton would not risk your safety. He will have guards. And you will bring your own guards." Hans tries.

"No."

Hans frowns. "If I may ease your - "

"No. You may not." Elsa says with finality. He's been dismissed.

She drops her gaze to the parchment before her as her study doors open, on command, a page appearing and timidly staring at Hans as Hans persists in rooting himself the the rug. The room is very cold. The young man looks at Hans as if to say, _Please - don't be stupid, My Lord._

Hans clenches his jaw, catching the reflex of ugly words that try to erupt, instead swallowing them down.

 _Fine_.

Hans genuflects, thinking Elsa should really know by now not to underestimate him. He is lost in his own mind, quickly calculating and discarding rather unscrupulous plans to get Elsa to be reasonable when he crashes into Anna in the foyer near the gates.

"Hey!" Anna sputters. "Watch it!"

Her teal eyes flare as he frowns, seemingly taking joy in his anger. He doesn't respond except to shake his head as he helps to right her.

"What's going on? Trouble in paradise?" Anna drawls, looking pleased. Anna has been quick to chide, yet just as quick to embrace whatever Elsa has asked of her - simple devotion to her beloved sister. Hans never expected that Anna was truly so transparent. Simple. She'd be eaten alive in the Southern Isles court.

Hans freezes - and thinks he's found a less unscrupulous plan to get Elsa to listen. Anna.

"Help me?" Hans asks suddenly.

Anna rolls her eyes, turning a shoulder to him. Despite her outward appearance of indifference, there is poorly hidden curiosity.

Hans blurts out (because honesty is the only thing he allows himself to offer Anna these days - it is simpler than the games), "Grandfather has news regarding the bond and is waiting to speak with us now. Elsa is refusing to come - rather demands he come to her."

Anna's eyebrows raise, "News about the bond? How to break it?"

"Possibly." That's not a lie, but something about that leaves him unsettled.

Anna says, "Elsa won't go near the sea. You guys drowned her too many times. I can't fault her for being skittish."

"Nor I. But there is a clear difference between skittish and rude." Hans runs a hand through his hair, glancing back at the hall leading to Elsa's study door. Closed.

"You've got a point there." A pause. "Tell ya what. I'll come with you," Anna offers lightly. She looks sincere.

Hans turns that over in his mind, it might help. "Thank you, Anna."

"It seems a little sneaky, but given you're - you, I'm surprised you haven't thought of it yourself..." Anna says conspiratorially as Hans falls in step with her, "But why don't you just sing to her once you're on the beach - that would get her there."

"She would be livid." Hans enjoys being ice-free.

"She would. But it would be for her own good." Anna speaks as if she possess a deep wisdom. "She'll get over it."

Anna has a point.

So he does.

Despite Anna's encouragement, Hans feels retched as Elsa appears on the beach, furious and stalking towards him as he kneels before the old sage and King Triton.

Anna has the nerve to giggle, "Um...maybe I was _wrong_."


	13. The Power of Words

Elsa feels as if she were caught up air in a furious howl, then decides to put purpose to it as she storms towards her siren.

"How dare you manipulate me!" Elsa growls at Hans through clenched teeth, "Disregarding my wishes and forcing me here against my will!"

The sudden swirl of winter that violently stirs the sand in Elsa's wake is quite intentional and purely for effect, as is the ice crackling under her feet with each harsh step drawing her against her will towards the sea. A glance past her angry form reveals snow. Judging by the look on King Triton's face, she's properly made her point.

Don't trifle with an icy sorceress.

Neither Hans, nor Anna, appear terribly frightened of the winter swirling about. They do however appear quite culpable.

"Elsa, I can explain," Anna tries quickly, coming between Elsa and Hans with placating hands. "Don't blame Hans - I mean _blame_ Hans, but not totally. I _might_ have encouraged him...one could argue. Depending on your point of view. But we are only trying to help you!"

Anna nods emphatically, eyes darting to the coercive prince who is nodding, too.

"Your presence is a necessity, not a formality," Hans adds. His eyes are ridiculously wide, imploring.

Why on god's green earth would Anna be in cahoots with him?

Elsa bites back terse words for Anna's defense of Hans (she is bewildered by that, but too upset to think on it any) and instead snatches Hans by his elbow and hauls him with her.

Away from the water.

Flashing in Elsa's mind are not images of raging seas and darkness, memories of the agony of drowning - nor the vague awareness of Uma's painful attempt on her magic (initially her thoughts were of all that, and more, as she felt the bloody songs calling her to Hans and she realized what the hell he was doing).

No.

Instead a collection of memories surface, tender moments spent with this man who is looking to break the bond that binds them - and she can't make any sense of why it hurts to think of that actually coming to fruition.

Elsa's mind is stuck on the gentle way he holds her when she seeks comfort in the heat of his skin (he smells like soap and the sea and he's safe and he's home), his eyes, green like spring with flecks of gold that shine brightly (she looses herself in them after falling apart with his touch only to be rebuilt anew in their gaze), his brilliant mind and clever wit and the way he forces a smile from her like a reflex...she doesn't want live without all of that now that she's known it. Even in this moment, livid at his coercive behavior, she knows she wants him near her.

Elsa can't put together anything coherent to say, never mind rational, to explain why this tampering with the bond makes her so upset. It occurs to Elsa that perhaps this is just another cruel facet of the siren's curse. Evidently she's gone mad.

Hans starts to say something to her in that calm manner he has, like he's soothing a spooked horse, but she's too furious to hear him.

With an immovable hand she halts him an arbitrarily safe distance from the waves and levels him with a hard glare, "I said _NO_."

"You did." Hans quickly concedes. "I understand you may be nervous of the water, fearful of Uma trying something, but my grandfather has found someone wise who - "

"NO!" Elsa spits out, eyes starting to prick with burning tears.

"I'm done. No more..." Elsa waves a hand vaguely toward the tide breaking into foam on the beach, "... _this_. I won't. Stop toying with me!"

"I'm so sorry, but Elsa - you are safe here." Hans' brow is knit tight with concerned confusion. "I thought you - "

"I'm just learning the shape and logic of this, of us. Beginning to see the other side and so I won't let you take it from me!"

"Take what from you?" Hans asks in a breath like its been forced from his lungs, and good grief she's been uttering gibberish because he adds, "Forgive me, Your Grace, but they are only here to help us - you wanted peace from the bond?"

"I want..." drawing breath causes Elsa's chest to hurt and something sickening to twist in her gut. She presses the heel of her hand hard to her sternum.

Elsa says with sickening dread, "I fear I'm going to be _ill_."

Hans comes to wrap himself around her slight frame, strong and for her and how is she to accept any course of action that could ruin this? She lets him support her, comfortingly, as he leads her to a nearby boulder, guiding her down gently as bile burns the back of her throat before she can conquer it to swallow it down.

Anna is beside Hans in a heartbeat and looking terribly guilty, "Oh no! Elsa? What's wrong?"

"I'm not - no. No more."

Anna shakes her head, wide eyes confused as she looks to Hans for clarification. He actually wears a similar look.

Hans has firm fingers pressed to Elsa's wrist, gently applying pressure with rolls of his thumb and forefinger until the wave of nausea ceases. Elsa vaguely wonders what he just did and how he knew to do it.

Elsa shakes her head, trying too shake the words loose, but can't.

"Please don't make me explain. I. I just want to go." Elsa feels nothing but ridiculous and desperate as she begs Anna, "I want to go home."

Hans studies Elsa silently, then exchanges heavy glances with Anna. A pause.

Anna's eyebrows shoot up as she points towards King Triton and starts towards the water, "I'm just going to let him know you two need a minute..."

Hans remain silent before her.

"I'm not ready." Elsa says, feeling absurd. "Without the bond I don't know if - . I don't want what we have taken."

Elsa's eyes drift closed as she lifts her chin towards the sky, realizing this is all so simple. Almost elegant in its simplicity. She wants Hans, so intimately, but can't pin down why. But she is willing to ask. " _Please. Don't leave..._ "

Hans settles before her on his knees as he takes her cool hands into his. He spares a glance towards Anna and the water, towards his grandfather and the old sea hag who is no doubt going to destroy everything.

"Elsa."

Her name on his lips sounds like, _Open your eyes. Look at me._

Elsa drops her chin and follows his command - meeting his eyes which have gone hard, dark. Hans appears to have steeled himself, as if for battle.

"I am wholly at your command." Hans says firmly. "You think I wish to carry on with life without you - like this never happened?"

There is the sweetest twist to his lips, an endearing smile starting to split and a stark contrast to the ferocity and possessiveness sharp in his eyes. A thumb charts soothing circles over Elsa's hands, holding them as if she were something precious, a treasure.

"You think I can survive without your infuriating presence in my life?" Hans says softly, like a shared pleasure and oh - something delightful flutters to life low in Elsa's belly at his teasing. "I can't, Elsa. I have never felt this way regarding another and I am hopelessly unable to control it."

Something foreign cracks and spills warmth into the freeze threatening Elsa's chest. With it comes relief.

Hans lifts one of Elsa's hands by the wrist, twisting to trap fingers between his and kisses her knuckles, then tugs it towards his chest, top and center, where he holds it pressed beneath his own. His heart is thumping a rapid tattoo, trying to escape.

"I am entirely yours, as long as you'll have me." He confesses, not the least bit ashamed, but with hope and a little desperation in his gaze nonetheless. He looks radiant and something she wants without purpose, illuminated by the evening sun cutting across his face.

Elsa can feel heat stain her cheeks, wanting to pull this man to her and kiss him ferociously. Instead she keeps her eyes fixed and refuses to look from her hand, dangerous with potential, pressed without fear to his heart, and nods.

"I like seeing you happy," Hans says. "I see it in your eyes these past days, and not just when the bond has firm grasp on you."

Elsa says, "I wish things could have happened differently, between us. Do you?"

It seems an easy yes, but these last few days of summer have been gorgeous, slow. Hans' thoughts, also moving slowly, manage to catch on the question's barbs where they might usually brush heedlessly past. He seems to considers where they are as he forms his answer.

Elsa considers the tiny rainbows forming in the sea spray - thanks to the late angle of the sun, the scent of grasses on the breeze. The slow stirring of Elsa' fingertips at the hollow of Hans' throat.

"If I could spare you the pain of the past, I would," Hans says, "but I wouldn't do anything that might lead us away from this point. Here, right now."

Elsa delights in his response as it confirms he too has been happy in them. In this light Elsa feels strong, powerful, and doesn't waver. "Yes, it would be a shame to have missed this opportunity to summon me on a whim, against my desires."

But she slides her free hand into Hans' hair, leans up and kisses him very, very lightly on the lips. It is a kiss that's like the quietest of sighs, and she tucks her face into Hans' neck, to one side of her own trapped fingers.

Like everything Elsa does, the action is imperious in its own way. Hans does what it asks and wraps his arm around Elsa's back, pulling her body close.

Hans asks, "Talk with Grandfather?"

Elsa shifts so her eyes flick up to his, and Hans continues with command lifting his voice, "It won't hurt to hear what the old sage has to say."

Elsa can't bring herself to protest any further, as long as he holds her steady like this, she's invincible.

"Okay."

It is in the following minutes Elsa decides the wise old mermaid is obviously ancient, her name Anagrom. She is frail yet wiry, with short hair devoid of color, murky green eyes that may have once been a vibrant hue. Her tail is a dull black, lacking any luster similar to what Hans' fin had (it was beautiful - luminous despite the darkness of the sea). If anything, it gives off almost a hint of green in the light. All in all, if pressed, Elsa would choose to stick with her rather rude assessment of this old sage King Triton found himself.

Elsa thinks, this mermaid is nothing but an _old sea hag_.

Evidently she's the only one here who feels that way- Anna and Hans have been deeply enthralled with every word she's spoken.

Anagrom's liltIng voice lacks strength, demanding that the group stay very close to hear her, and that leaves Elsa slightly unsettled.

Anagrom shares, "The siren's magic ensures the success of offspring - which requires the chosen mate's presence. Distance will strain the bond to its breaking point."

"We had already figured that out first hand." Elsa says, with somewhat of a harsh snap. Elsa realizes she's being ill-mannered, but finds she doesn't care to expend the energy on formalities in this particular situation. "We barely survived that experience, thank you."

The old sage is seemingly unoffended and nods, offering, "Should the siren die, or the human, the bond will break as the magic is no longer needed."

It is all Elsa can do to avoid rolling her eyes. _Well, what else would one expect to happen_? She holds tightly to her sarcasm trying to spill out at the _shocking_ _revelation_.

Elsa sighs, "I am not killing Hans to break the bond. Nor myself."

Hans looks mildly amused at her remark and seems to disregard her persistent irritation (he often does). He leans closer, warm breath ghosting across the shell of Elsa's ear as he says privately, "Evidently we've made extensive progress these last few weeks?"

The idea of a smile reflexively plays at her lips before she can take command of it. So she allows her elbow to find his ribs with intent.

Hans' grin pulls playful and uncomplicated. As does hers.

"Got anything that doesn't involve one or both of them dying?" Anna is absolutely serious and again, enthralled. She is knelt beside the water, closest to the mermaid.

Elsa fears Anna is far to enamored with the entire experience of talking to merfolk. Perhaps because she can swim successfully without drowning. Or maybe it is Anna's innate curiosity.

"There is no need for magic should the chosen mate fall in love with the siren," Anagrom says carefully. Her washed-out green eyes study Hans in a manner which unnerves Elsa. "The bond will disappear."

Wrinkled, knobby fingers make motion in the air as Anagrom's smile pulls crooked, like she's playing at something. "It turns deadly for the siren should he or she foolishly fall in love with their chosen mate and it is unrequited."

She aims a finger at Hans' heart. "In which case it only takes three little words from the poor, lovesick siren, professing true love, to end everything."

"I love you?" Anna asks.

The crazy old sea hag smiles with a nod.

Is seems as if all eyes are drawn to Hans, then back to Anagrom. All except for Elsa, who can't take her eyes off him.

Hans wears a most unreadable expression.

"So if Hans falls in love," Anna clarifies, "actual real love with Elsa and says 'I love you', and she's not in love with him, the bond breaks and he dies?"

Anagrom's grin grows wider, "Yes, my little angelfish."

"I said something that didn't involve one or both of them dying."

"I love you." Anagrom coos. Elsa's eyes snap to the old sea hag. "In any language - in case you were curious. However, the siren can be saved by a true love's kiss."

Elsa's heart drops in her chest, foreboding sickness striking her once more as she recounts in her mind the conversation she just had with Hans ( _I've never felt this way...I am entirely yours, as long as you'll have me_ ). While she's never even remotely been in love (although she's had plenty of recent experience with what is infatuation, torrid desires of the flesh, no thanks to him), she imagines love must be a far more tangible feeling than whatever she presently feels for Hans - who she now fears may be falling in love with her.

Anna rolls her eyes, "What is it with magic and true love?"

Hans offers a startled laugh at Anna. Then frowns in contemplation. Ironic the man has cursed himself with such magic.

Elsa decides she's heard just about enough of all this and fixes a firm expression (she is the Queen) and looks at King Triton, "Thank you for your assistance, thus far. But I wish to speak privately to your sage."

King Triton genuflects somewhat, "Of course, I shall be nearby if you should need me."

Her command is quietly granted, although Hans and Anna remain what is likely within earshot. Elsa is momentarily too irritated to care.

Elsa comes before the old sea hag and kneels, cool ocean playing at her skirts.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Anagrom says, and there something about her Elsa genuinely can't stand.

"This whole siren's bond is about mating, the creation of offspring?" Elsa can't seem to stop the bitter edges from tainting her words. "It's dangerous."

"Well, yes. Primitive magic vital for survival of a species."

"Why would the magic work if there would be no offspring?"

Anagrom appears perplexed. "Magic is simple. It cannot control everything."

Elsa frowns.

"But...that is not the situation here. I suspect your siren has already been successful, judging by the way he holds you in his gaze."

A caught-back breath sticks to Elsa's lungs, painfully in her chest. "Excuse me?" Elsa says incredulously, "How could you possibly know of such things? Specialist, human physicians, have repeatedly come to the same conclusion that I will not bear children. That _siren_ foolishly unleashed the bloody magic on one who cannot mate, as you put it."

"Declared who?" Anagrom scoffs. "Human physicians? Stupid men without knowledge or wisdom of what or how magic truly works?"

"Perhaps. But they understood the human female body and what is necessary for nature to occur."

The old sea hag smiles in that entirely unnerving way she has. "May I?"

She prompts Elsa to offer her hand to her, waiting patiently for Elsa to decide.

Elsa bewilderingly places her hand into Anagrom's, wet and bony, and watches as Anagrom turns her hand palm-up, then proceeds to trace a pointed finger along the crease. Elsa feels something odd - like a surge of magic, sparks of it uncomfortable and burning at her hand before Anagrom breathes a soft laugh.

Anagrom mutters under her breath, " _Uma was right!_ "

In the blink of an eye Elsa finds her hand tightly clenched into Anagrom's, pulled forcefully into the wave and under.


	14. Terrors in the Sea

There is an unusual presence of large, undersea predators in the fjord. Inexplicably Hans knows this for fact, despite the camouflage of dark waters. There has been the occasional fin visible from the surface - the movement suggests there is purpose here. Hans is unsure if anyone but him would notice such details - he knows these fjords like the back of his hand.

Such findings means that Fisk is watching the scene unfold, likely from very close by. It leaves Hans slightly en garde, questioning if his grandfather truly knows what he's doing. Something with that old sage he brought. Hans doesn't care for anyone toying with Elsa, nor being made into a liar - he assured her repeatedly she was safe. It also leaves him irritated with Elsa - for someone so obstinate about coming to the sea, she's presently far too close to the water for his comfort.

Anna has stopped not nearly as far from Elsa and the old sage as Hans suspects is appropriate to heed Elsa's command to talk privately, but he'll not argue. He is leery of putting any real distance between himself and her.

"As much as I have enjoyed making a lot of loud and agonised noise about you being thrust back into our lives," Anna starts out of nowhere in the silence that hangs painfully between her and Hans, "I have to admit: I am okay with the fact that you exist."

_Wait. What?_

It is with great effort Hans forces his attention away from Elsa, "Forgive my confusion, but you are going to have to elaborate for me to understand what you are getting at."

"That sounded really weird, I know." Anna cracks a small smile before her eyes dart to her hands "But I have to be honest, Hans. You have matched Elsa so well, and quickly became someone important to her. A friend. Someone other than me to confide in and she's needed that - I never realized that Elsa wasn't very happy."

"Really?" Hans questions with a wary sort of trust. Something strange twists in his chest.

Anna's hands nervously fling before her, towards Elsa and the waves, "Well, she was happy - but not like now. This seems more...genuine. I can't really explain it without actually wanting to punch you again. So all I am trying to say is that you've been good for her. Thank you for not being a total cabbage-head."

"I'm honored." Hans smiles at Anna, the pull of it genuine. Hans starts to say how grateful he's been for Anna's reluctant support - but is stunned into silence as Elsa tersely chides, _"...that siren foolishly unleashed the bloody magic on one who cannot mate, as you put it."_

Anna has heard her sister, too. The pair swivel in unison to now blatantly eavesdrop on the Queen's conversation.

Hans gives confused grunt - it escape from his chest without permission, as if the air has been knock from him.

"You didn't know, did you?" Anna whispers. He can sense Anna's eyes studying his profile with interest. "Elsa didn't tell you?"

"No."

Hans feels numb, if he had to put name to the emptiness that suddenly engulfs him. He is lost in what this means for Elsa, for them. (Because the old sage is right when she says she suspects _Elsa's siren has already been successful_ \- he somehow knows there is a babe, their babe - the dreams are almost nightly; a boy tiny and perfect with a shock of blonde atop a small round head, suckling at Elsa's breast.)

"No," Hans clears his throat.

Truthfully it would be an abysmal fate being denied the joy of knowing who would be their child. Not that he's ever given real thought to children (aside from avoiding any activities that would result in one), nor felt that it was hugely important to focus upon future heirs when he's chosen to pursue a woman (as the youngest of thirteen males, his line is in little danger of ending). But Elsa is different. She's everything, having absurdly brought purpose and light into his rather dark existence. There has to have been an egregious error - certainly Elsa is wrong. She must be. She's been exceedingly wrong before.

(Not that he would call her out on it, but there was that little detail of stopping her winter and bringing back summer that she emphatically denied being capable of. When in fact she was.)

"Elsa said that she endured years of horrible examinations by various physicians as she came of age and they all said the same thing. She wouldn't ever have a child. Elsa and my Father agreed she'd abdicate the throne to me when I had a child, to maintain the direct line and claim to the crown." Anna snorts a rather dark laugh, lacking any humor. "Stupidity at it's finest. _Let's let Anna, non-magical and flighty, rule the kingdom 'cause she has a babe. Ha_."

Hans can only stare at where Elsa is knelt along the water, wondering how her late father could have failed so badly at supporting her properly. If things had been different, if she'd been nurtured allowed to flourish in her potential, who would Elsa be today? Certainly not cursed by a siren and knelt on the sands of a beach, arguing with an old mermaid regarding whether or not she is with child.

"I think Elsa finds that idea idiotic now, she's said she probably wouldn't do it." Anna sighs and snapping Hans' thoughts back, "But understand she's spent her life thinking she's less of a woman, unfit, because my Father, god rest his soul, put awful thoughts there and inadvertently nurtured them along for years."

And thus Hans' mind is lost and he is a hair late when it happens.

Hans sees Elsa place her hand in Anagrom's, watches the schadenfreude dance across the old sag's face, but his distracted mind misses the moment the threat truly presents, taking action.

Instead he is forced to watch helplessly as Elsa is snatched and pulled back into the sea.

It all comes down to timing, Hans thinks as he launches into action, unsheathing his dagger and charging towards the tide. And this old hag timed it perfectly. Anna begins to shout, calling out for guards to take to boats, and Hans is in the drink as the fjord becomes pricked and barbed with ice and frozen blocks of sea. The freezing water folds over him with a harsh bite.

It is only later that Hans thinks that perhaps pausing to shed himself of his heavier garments, jacket and boots primarily, may have been a wiser decision. Hans finds himself struggling against the ice and slush caught-up in the waves, no doubt thanks to the woman he's after. Hans is weighted down and ineffective to offer any true support in an undersea fight, at least in his present state. But he is damn well going to try because ever fiber of his being demands he defend Elsa unto death.

That may not be that far off, truth be told. Hans is lightheaded and feeling as if he'll succumb from lack of oxygen and hypothermia. It is with immense relief that Fisk approaches, already drawing attention from King Triton to the fact Hans has entered the fray. The sea is dark with ink, clouding and obscuring his surroundings in a most unnatural and disorienting fashion.

"It's Morgana - back from the dead, working with Uma," Fisk pants. "And Uma somehow got magic like Elsa's but she can't control it. She struck back at Elsa with it."

"Where is she?" Hans demands. "Where is Elsa?"

The mounting rage within Hans has him unable to think clearly, unable to feel the bond possibly magnetizing him to her, and he fears the worst. That Elsa is already dead.

"I am unsure," Fisk says. "But the fjord is contained. Uma won't be leaving with her."

There is a bright blast of magic that Hans would recognize anywhere as his grandfather's triton, blinding him momentarily, just as he was getting his bearings. A heartbeat, and the anticipated relief that being granted his fin once more will bring washes over him, but the moment passes unbalanced as the blast of magic hasn't hit it's mark.

Hans is still human.

A second blast does meet his flesh, and as the magic transforms him back into a merman, beautiful and powerful and dangerous and able to draw the needed oxygen once more from the sea surrounding him, Hans finds that King Triton had not missed his mark with the first blast at all, but rather landed it soundly.

_Elsa_.

She's now the most exquisite mermaid Hans has ever seen, iced blue fin that glistens akin to her icy gown, and he's never noticed before how a mermaid's tale curves with precarious angles at her hips - but Elsa's certainly does, and it triggers hot blood, and rather barbaric, to chart anew in his body ( _mine_ ). Her fair complexion makes her look ethereal, her form now fully revealed and calling him to worship her if under different circumstances.

It takes only a second for Hans to realize with intense and fervent fondness that Elsa, despite now being in the form of a mermaid, still retains two qualities that are so essentially Elsa: She still has her iced magic, which she's unleashing without regard furiously in what Hans can only assume is the direction of the old hag or Uma, blue eyes stinging with malice and palpable, and she still can't swim. Elsa is unsteady and sinking like a stone into the darkness. Despite now being a mermaid.

Hans makes note that should they survive this situation, he is teaching the poor woman to swim irregardless of if she likes it or not. Because this has become quite ridiculous.

"Elsa, I'm coming." Hans calls as he approaches, wary of the icy magic surging forth and cutting angles in the water around them.

"Elsa - let me help you."

Her eyes are wild, almost feral with determination when they meet his. Hans has seen that look before. Elsa has been pushed to deadly force, and she intends to use it. He can't really fault her, he's at that point as well.

Dagger in one hand, Hans wraps his other around her waist, pulling her back flush to his front to stabilize her - stopping her continued descent. Elsa is trembling terribly, and he realizes her skin has gone cold. Like ice.

And she's not said a word. Not even to acknowledge him.

Hans hasn't the luxury to question her, raise his concerns regarding his observations. A jet of black glares past, Hans having only time enough to raise the blade of his dagger, poorly aimed, against the darkness as it rips Elsa from his arm and down into the abyss below. It's like a nightmare...Hans has never felt such anger and _fear_.

Uma.

A faint metallic scent mingles with the salt of the sea, Hans can almost taste it as he rockets after her. Something like rust. Good.  At least she's wounded.

_It will give the predators something to track_ , Hans thinks _._

Without awaiting escort he proceeds to block Uma's next move, he's certain he knows where she's heading, and intends to recapture his queen. There is a cavern with a system of tubes connecting out to the open sea that Hans would stake his life on, Uma is heading for. He's also fairly certain it is unguarded, as it is obscured in weeds and kelp. Hans is only aware of the cavern's existence after stumbling across it accidentally one summer during his patrols with Fisk in the fjords. It is only then he realizes he could use a little magic on his side.

Hans spares a glance behind, it would seem he is not unescorted -Triton and Fisk are following his lead. As is a small force of guards.

"I know where she's going." Hans growls, "I intend to end this, now."


	15. Descendants

If pressed, Elsa would be unsure which had been a more startling experience thus far. Being struck with her own magic by Uma while trying to fight her off, or shortly thereafter being morphed into a half-fish. Probably the bit about being hit by _HER_ _OWN MAGIC_.

Actually it was all too much, a choking shock rendering Elsa entirely unaware of the ensuing fight aside from the fact she was still _trying_. But the harder she tried, the weaker she got - unable to summon her ice and effectively compromised when Uma finally bound her after snatching her from Hans.

The freeze, which had fallen over Elsa's limbs like chains after settling in her heart - finally breaks. A sensation that she has never felt before is rippling through her chest, like a bank of a winter storms. It is a terrible anger, breaking with deadly force. She has to keep _fight_ ing, she is going to be _revenged, s_ he is going to find a way to make this creature pay. Even if she has to bring the entire sea down with her.

"Rest here, my little snowflake," Uma coos softly in Elsa's ear. "We'll journey to our new home at nightfall. I think you'll like it. It's somewhere warm and sunny and where the locals won't take kindly to having their water frozen."

Elsa is summarily dumped onto a sea cavern's rocky floor, barbed stone catching and ripping at the flesh of the blue scales that now makeup her fin. Elsa's hands are bound tightly with ice behind her back, ice she is unable to control that prevents her from bracing from any impact. Elsa fights back a pained cry as jagged rocks cut into her, adding to the agony she's experiencing and churning the fury she holds tightly to.

"Well done, Auntie," Uma beams a grin at the old hag and rises, putting her back to Elsa. "Not only was your potion remarkably functional to capture the icy magic, but you turned in a beautiful performance - I didn't think you had it in you."

"Don't give me that." Morgana snaps. Why did you take her? That wasn't the plan!" The old sea hag has transformed herself since Elsa last saw her; her dull, black fin has been replaced by dull, black tentacles. Not an improvement, aesthetically.

Uma says, "I improvised. Unlike you or mother - I can have my success."

"Good luck with all that success after giving King Triton's headstrong, lovesick grandson means and reason to follow us."

"Oh _please_. And do what? I've got my little snowflake's icy magic now. He can't stop me. Not even King Triton can. _All will now bow before me_." Uma offers a dismissive chuckle and skirts a tentacle across Elsa's hip, caressing up her side and chest to lift Elsa's chin. Dark eyes study Elsa, revoltingly filled with lust. "It was incredibly generous of Triton to do me the favor of zapping you into a mermaid. I will thoroughly enjoy your company a little later, as well as that sweet mouth."

_Elsa feels absolutely ill._

"Triton is nothin but a stupid imbecile," Uma purrs.

Elsa refuses to hold eye contact any longer and drops her gaze, deciding she has too much grace to spit in this witch's face (as much as she wants to).

Elsa's eyes catch upon a rather unnatural looking shell held by a chain around Uma's neck. It's glowing blue in the darkness of the cave - like the potential of her snowflake through the ice she creates while it waits for her command to take it's shape.

With every blast of ice Elsa fought with earlier, she could feel herself draining of magic. Her magic must be trapped in there, Elsa realizes, allowing Uma to harness it as she wears the shell like a bauble. The scaffold of a plan begins to construct in Elsa's foggy mind. She has to get that necklace.

"That was a fatal error, Uma. That siren has a bond with the Snow Queen." Morgana fails to have any patience with Uma, it seems. "So that makes you the idiot, my dear niece. He can follow her anywhere. That means you, too. The fact she's not suffering from the bond becoming stained should tell you Triton's grandson isn't far. He can track you."

Elsa fails to catch what else is said as the hags bicker about with one another; instead she tries to take in her surroundings. There's not much to work with - dark tunnels leading who knows where and rocks. That is literally it. Elsa wonders if Hans really can find her somehow, wonders if he followed her here (then hates herself for being a bloody damsel in distress - she herself has been called a witch, a monster...witches and monsters absolutely should not require rescuing). Concern grows as she focuses through the ice and anger beating painfully in her chest. Elsa tries to feel for the _blasted_ bond that binds her to Hans, finally having use for it, and can't. There is _nothing_.

Uma turns, batting a dismissive hand toward Morgana, "That dullard of a prince said he didn't want her, so I rightfully stole her. Besides, what if she's not out of magic yet?"

Morgana says, "You don't need all of the magic from her - the enchantment just needs a small amount to work!"

"I need all of it."

"Uma, darling. You can't control what you've got. Can you even reverse it? Thaw the ice like the Snow Queen did those years ago which freed me from my icy tomb?" Morgana says.

Elsa catches that part of the conversation. _Rats. I did that?_

"Pstt. No worries." Although Uma seems to hesitate for a moment. "I just need practice."

Elsa thinks, _If Uma can't control it and reverse the freeze, I am surely not telling her how to._

Elsa shivers more violently than earlier, and tries again to thaw the ice that binds her hands dreadfully out of the way. With great apprehension she realizes she can't - she's become too weak.

Elsa fears she can't even rise on her own. She then vaguely wonders how long it took Anna to freeze entirely, reasoning that if she has any hope of surviving - she has to get to Anna. Maybe Anna can think of something. Elsa drops her head to rest the rocky floor of the cave, trying to conserve what little strength she has left to mount her next move. To get that necklace.

There is a sudden shifting of shadows behind the tittering hags who are too busy bickering with each other to notice the subtle change in the darkness. A glitter of gold flickers in the black, followed by a blast so bright Elsa finds herself ducking her face into the rocks against the glaring pain it causes.

Elsa lifts her head in the ensuing silence, eyes darting up to the sea witches. Where there were two remains only one. A weird dust is suspended eerily in the water where Morgana last was.

Uma growls she as she swiftly comes to loom over Elsa and jets ice back into the darkness but her aim is terrible - Elsa can focus just enough to see Uma land the icy magic against King Triton's trident, knocking him back. The all-powerful trident, granting power to command the sea at one's every whim, clatters to the rocks.

"Yes!" Uma squeals with unadulterated glee, no evidence whatsoever of any regret that her family member has been killed, right before her eyes.

Before Uma can move, launch herself at the object of power she has been after, Hans charges forward out of the blackness and claims the trident from the floor.

A fierce growl escapes Uma as Hans is now the one to loom over Elsa possessively (absurdly reassuring), leaving Uma to dart to the side and look to escape. Undersea predators appear out of the black to block her movements. King Triton's trident glows with potential in Hans' hand, awaiting Hans' command of its power and illuminating the undersea cavern in a red glow.

_How is he able to do that?_

A tendril of awe at the sight of Hans wielding such ultimate power, for her safety alone, unfurls within Elsa. When Hans blindly reaches out behind him for Elsa, clearly desperate for the physical reassurance that she is alive and okay, Elsa finds what little strength she has left and thaws the ice that binds her. She lifts an arm and grabs at his fingers, curling hers weakly around his as she whispers his name.

"Are you hurt?"

"Yes."

At that he glances at Elsa, and she watches something she can only describe as a mix of concern and terror dance across his features.

Without ceremony or remark Hans snarls, instantly taking aim at Uma and suddenly it's over. Uma has been reduced to nothing but faint speckles of matter suspended strangely in the water and the shell enchanted with Elsa's magic sinking to the cavern floor.

"Hans, the necklace!" Elsa gasps, unsure of any consequences should it become damaged, because what would become of her magic contained inside?

"I've got it!" Shouts Fisk, coming from side and already wrapping fins around the shell. Suddenly Elsa realizes that the cavern is crowded with mermen and fierce looking sea life. And an angry King Triton.

"Stand down," Fisk commands, "the witches are dead." He swims to Elsa, placing the shell into her hand. Elsa can't help but wonder _what now?_ She simply stares at the necklace laying innocently in the palm of her hand.

Tendrils of her magic start to bloom from the shell, a luminous glow of icy blue twining round her hand then around her - the magic luminously absorbing back into her. There was a point in her life she would have gladly gone without, gladly given her curse to any fool who wanted it, but now she breathes a soft sigh of relief as the last of it sinks back into the very fiber of her.

But in the end she still feels _cold_.

Triton is behind Hans, "Thank you, grandson. Very well done."

Hans, however, looks far from pleased and unable to take his eyes of Elsa. "What did she do to you?"

"Struck me with her magic." Elsa stutters, exhausted and chattering. "My magic."

"Grandfather," Hans is frowning and has not releasing Elsa's other hand, "I believe this trident is yours." He extends the weapon toward King Triton, without looking.

Triton accepts it, and before he can question Hans or make remark to Elsa's condition he is shocked into silence.

As is the entire cavern.

"Why is Queen Elsa turning to ice?" Triton manages.

Hans' jaw works, visibly shaken as he tries to respond. Eventually he manages to find his voice as he squeezes Elsa's hand.

"Uma froze her heart. Only an act of true love can thaw it." Hans says, with sickening clarity. Somewhere in the back of Elsa's mind pings a thought regarding how strange it is that he has seen both her and her sister in such a state.

"Anna." Elsa says weakly, "I need to get back to Anna for help."

Hans faintly smiles, with a sad shake of his head.

"Please clear the cavern," Hans commands calmly. "Now."

"What are you doing?" Elsa says.

In the stillness and quiet they are left in, Hans gathers Elsa fully into his arms, folding her with painful tenderness to him. And Elsa is terrified of what he is thinking to do. The idiot is going to get himself killed.

"I want to kiss you."

"No, Hans. You can't - I. I care for you...but I don't know. I - I can't say if what I feel is love for you." Elsa blurts out as Hans cradled her head in his hand, holding her in place. "I don't know what that kind of love truly is, or how it feels."

Hans fails to look anything but entirely enraptured with her and unphased by her words.

"I don't think that's how this works. I suspect it is an act of true love - regardless of if you are sure of it or not."

"You can't say those word to me." Elsa forces out, tries to scold, but they lack any sort of bite. "I don't want you to die."

"At present, I don't want you to die, and you are in far more danger than I." Hans says fondly, soft smile playing at his lips as he pulls closer to brush tender lips to hers. The fleeting act feels like fire, heat, "So stop talking and let me kiss you properly. I promise I shall make no declarations of love, I am simply offering an act."

Elsa can't hold back the flood of heat behind her chest as Hans kisses her fully.

They've kissed hundreds of times, exchanged far more lewd acts that cause her arousal to burn at her over these past few weeks than _this_. So it makes no sense to Elsa why she is so overwhelmed by the chaste press of his lips to hers. But she is, and it makes her feel _alive_.

Elsa thinks of when she thawed the frozen wasteland she had made of Arendelle all those years ago, the way the warmth of summer returned - bright and green and alive. Like Hans' eyes. It is the only possible way she can think to explain how she feels. So Elsa allows herself to have this, and least for this moment, tucked somewhere private and hidden.

Hans breaks from the kiss, and studies her with a complex little smile.

"You make the most gorgeous mermaid I have ever seen," Hans says. "Although I am perplexed as to why it is you still can't swim."

"Really?" Elsa can't seem to summon the appropriate level of irritation, rather she is warm and happy so her mouth quirks playfully. "All that has happened and you want to talk about swim lessons?"

"No time like the present." Hans shrugs. He lazily pulls her along side of him as he starts to swim, bodies pressed delightfully together. "And seeing as how there is opportunity for a little privacy at the moment, I thought I would mention it."

"Fine." Elsa sighs, attempting to hide her smile.

* * *

 


	16. Perfectly Imperfect

The astringency of communion wine lingers on Hans' tongue as he dutifully follows Elsa, filing down the side aisle back to their pew after receiving Eucharist. Morning light is streaming brightly through panels of stained glass, cutting colored patterns through the sanctuary as the choir's hymn lifts up resounding adoration.

The hymn is not one Hans is particularly familiar with but the melody is, so he's absently humming along with the refrain. The moment is peaceful, with a delightfully mundane normality to it that Hans can thoroughly appreciate given recent events.

That is until Elsa muddles it up by silently taking his hand and tugging him to fall in step with her, discreetly ducking out the sanctuary. She shoves her shoulder into a heavy wooden door and twists the knob, the force necessary for leverage given her smaller stature (obviously she's utilized this egress in the past and knows the trick). And all this occurs without her glancing back to catch Hans' confused expression.

Passing down a hall and through another door, Hans finds himself in the chapel's private garden.

"Elsa, what are we doing?"

Elsa doesn't immediately respond.

Hans deduces he's about to be reprimanded for something, and takes a wild guess as to what. "I was only humming. And before you point it out - I know I promised I wouldn't sing during services. Please trust I intend to keep my word."

"We have to _talk_." Elsa's voice holds a painful weight, like a forced confession.

"Now?"

Elsa simply stares at him. She must know what Hans is thinking.

This looks fabulously _scandalous_ ; the Head of the Church of Arendelle, Defender of the Faith, skipping out after communion with her future husband in tow.

"Really? You want to _talk_?" Hans adds.

But Elsa won't _talk_. Or rather, hasn't - and hasn't allow him to, either. She's oscillated between fervidly clingy and markedly silent towards him for the past few days, ever since he thawed her frozen heart and she rose out of the sea foam like an ancient goddess to return home.

Every time Hans has attempted to talk, tried to broach what he overheard Elsa say that day on the beach and what he didn't say in that undersea cavern, she's pointedly distracted him - her method of distraction most pleasant and highly effective as it results in skin sliding smoothly against skin and wet mouths too busy for anything but soft, desperate declarations soaked into the closest patch of flesh lips can press to. That part is all very nice. (Hans can't actually complain about that.)

Elsa has done nothing but give the impression that should Hans press her to open up, abandoned the strange new walls she's erected, the confrontation would end very badly - with half of Arendelle frozen and Hans left plotting combat strategy against a horrific snow-beast who holds Hans a grudge. Hans genuinely wants to know what is going on in that infuriating mind of hers, but without the inclement weather. So he has committed himself to an inordinate display of patience for the moment to arrive.

He just hadn't anticipated it would be now.

_He should have._

There was a baptism celebrated earlier during the church service, a tiny babe in white linen who's startled little cry rang out when the cool water from the fount was poured over his bald head and moved Elsa to tears, briefly. In the next heartbeat she composed herself in caught-back breathes, and Hans thought little of it. That is, aside from the fact Elsa couldn't take her eyes off the babe for the rest of the service.

Elsa is presently staring dumbly at Hans, like she's just now realized that she should have thought this all through before hauling him out of church service with her.

Elsa huffs, then deposits Hans onto a stone bench before proceeding to pace before him, wringing delicate fingers as she stares down the grass being crushed under her feet.

"I've failed to be honest with you," Elsa says suddenly, in a rush and at the grass. "Failed to trust you, despite the fact you've earned my trust repeatedly. And I am so sorry." Hans is unsure if she expects a response (from him, not the grass) because she presses on without indication of any need for one. "I...I have been selfishly afraid. I haven't been forthcoming about what the future may hold for us, and I fear there is something that may be vitally important to you in a wife and I _can't fulfill that_..."

" _Elsa_."

Elsa freezes, figuratively. "You intend to sire offspring, for me to bear your children?" Wide eyes dart towards Hans, catching his eye. Finally. She says it like defeat.

"Please don't," Hans sighs, ducking his chin and looking at Elsa with fondness - she really couldn't have put it much more awkwardly. "You know how I feel about you, given your non-frozen heart, so there's a very complex response to all that."

"It is a yes or a no." Elsa flushes, her glance wistful and the look in her eye says what she feels is deeply complex, but she emphatically won't say anything out loud that would risk harm to him. It triggers a skittering in his chest he hopes he will never be used to.

"Maybe?" Hans playfully edges.

"Hans." His name is a reprimand.

"Okay - yes, but perhaps not put in such a way." Hans cracks a smile, "What I had intended to do in the beginning and what I intend to do presently may not be the same. If you'd like the timeline - "

" _Hans_." Elsa groans with a pang of frustration.

" _Elsa_." Hans parrots. "Just. Indulge me, for a moment. Without argument."

Elsa glares murderously at him. "I'm being serious."

"As am I." Hans rises and shoos her to be seated on the stone bench. Elsa is doing a brilliant job of looking indignant.

"In the beginning, years and years ago when in my arrogance and vanity I first plotted to come to your coronation, I intended to woo the reclusive and mysterious young Queen of Arendelle and become her King. Part of the Consort King's duties would, as you pointed out weeks ago, include waiting with baited breath to satisfy the young Queen's every desire. By the way, doing so would eventually make it easier to manipulate the twit into doing my bidding and granting me power. That is, once the foolish Queen fell in love with me and trusted me to no end."

"You thought I was going to be a hideously ignorant shut-in or a crippled invalid, right?" Hans can't tell if Elsa is trying not to cough, or laugh. Regardless, he finds it rather endearing.

"I was certain of it, and it would make attempting any intimacy torturously painful."

"Less job satisfaction?" Elsa finally looses her battle as her lips quirk. "When performing your _duties_?"

Hans can feel himself blushing as he stands before her, talking of the idiot prince he was in his youth. He decides to stay on the point of children.

"Such _duties_ inevitably result in the conception of a child. Which, logically, would be very intended. It would put my line on the throne of Arendelle. However - that all went to pot and I won't linger any on that fact. Clearly I was arrogantly wrong about everything."

Elsa hums. "Quite."

"Moving forward to our rather serendipitous reunion last month, my intent was simply to save your life. The rest was a startling and unexpected consequence."

"Startling and extremely unexpected, yes."

Elsa's lips are pressed thin in contemplation. "I - I didn't expect that you'd have actually fallen...that I'd...fallen in - " Elsa's voice halts with horror as she stares at Hans. She swallows thickly, "I won't say it."

"You don't need to," Hans offers softly.

Elsa steadies herself and says, "I know you already know that I can't have children. Anna told me you overheard. And I expect that it is of concern, and you must care."

"I care, only in that you do and that you believe it to be true. And it breaks my heart that you are so upset over that." Hans says carefully. "How I feel about you, and my overall happiness in life, is not entwined with the creation of an heir."

Her eyes are wet as they fix to some point over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"For what it is worth, those physicians who essentially tortured you were horribly misguided and we may have a lot of creative storytelling to do next spring to explain an early birth of a Crown heir to the throne of Arendelle." Hans says.

"I highly doubt that." Elsa's gone very still. "But I will say, that would be equal parts terrifying and wonderful."

"Mm."

Hans finally makes motion to sit beside Elsa, taking her hand into his.

Elsa drops her head to his shoulder as she watches their fingers entwine.

"There is a babe. I don't know why I know that." Hans says in a whisper.

"Don't you see? _I can't_." Her voice is weary, and pained, and she's said those words in defeat before and couldn't have been more wrong. Either time.

There is a small, perfectly imperfect freckle on the back of Elsa's right hand that is Hans' mark for where to press his kiss. Something aches in his chest for her now, the way it did unexplainably back then in the Arendelle dungeon. Although he is wiser now than he once was, and a better man who has the privilege of knowing about the perfectly imperfect freckle - and he knows this snow queen. Knows when push, knows when to lie in wait.

So Hans lingers with her hand raised to his lips and breathes, "Then I reserve the right to say _I told you so_."


	17. So This is Love...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times ahead...

* * *

"Should I go back to my room?"

Hans is failing to make motion, but in his defense, Elsa's left him no ability to do so without having to untwine her awkwardly from him. He's presently sprawled on his back with limbs akimbo, a hand at her ankle and affectionately tracing patterns across the boney prominence. Elsa is slack, draped limply atop him, thoroughly enjoying her bare flesh pressed to his in the aftermath of having ravished him with bruising enthusiasm.

Now she's exhausted.

A large, warm hand caresses down her spine, fingers splay wide to grip her rump playfully, "Or are we going for a noisy round three this evening with a castle that is quickly filling with wedding guests?"

She doesn't ever want him anywhere but her bed, shackled if necessary (for multiple reasons she can't put into words after round two). That might be too torrid a confession for where her mind has been these past days. She should save that for the honeymoon.

"Closer to first daylight," Elsa sighs. "Let me keep you near for a few more hours." She intentionally phrases her command in a manner to allow inference that the siren's bond is the reason why.

Elsa's eyes are closed and she focuses on the way he breathes when she breathes, her thoughts a nebulous mass aimlessly wandering after the infinite list of priorities always competing for her attention these days. The bond has been completely absent, truthfully, forcing Elsa to admit to herself that she's in love with him. She's nowhere near ready to admit that to him, however.

"The wedding invasion start in full tomorrow," Hans murmurs quietly, suddenly. "Corona. Schleswig. Father. Mother. The entire entourage."

Elsa hums affirmation. "Favorable winds and sea shall ensure it?"

Hans sleepily chuckles, "I have it on good authority."

"Your Grandfather won't come to the actual wedding, however? You can't convince him?"

"No." Hans sighs, "The sea-king refuses to take on the form of a land-lover. No matter the occasion. Like I said before, if we are wed on a ship, he can be present and bear witness to the union."

"The snow-queen refuses to take to water given recent events."

"Mm. Then we remain at an impasse. Battle of the impertinently stubborn."

Elsa's fingers skitter over a rather sensitive patch of Hans' flesh, iced-cold. A warning.

Her lips quirk at the speed at which Hans captures her wandering hand - and how it coincides with a rather sharp intake of breath.

"He'll be present at aquatic festivities, however." Hans says rather breathless. He hates it when she does that.

"Excellent," Elsa opens her eyes, grinning at Hans. Her gaze falls to her hand. She considers her wrist trapped in his grasp. It is a reminder of his brute strength, his power. It is a reminder that she _trusts_ him. That she feels _safe_. Hans is watching her, perhaps with the same thoughts. He drags her offending digits upwards to his lips, slowly pressing his kiss to the tips of each of them. Fearlessly.

Elsa watches as he gets to the last finger and murmurs, "All this pageantry and revelry is going to drive me mad."

Elsa is irrationally dreading it. All of it. The castle hasn't planned such festivities since her coronation (and she can't help but recall how badly that all went), "An entire _week_ of celebration seems excessive."

"Mm." Hans folds her hand into his and closes his eyes. "All necessary, and will aid garnering support from the council and people for the new restrictions put forth in the marriage accord. You'll see."

It is the next night, and the scene is unsurprisingly similar.

Although now Elsa is looking up at Hans, her mind thoroughly uninterested in lucid thought following a most delightfully fervid tryst, one which has stretched well into the wee hours of morning (again). Her breath is still coming in unsteady heaves and Hans remains a solid mass atop her. Moonlight cuts shadows across their conjoined forms as cool, perfumed air from the gardens below spill into her bedchamber through the open windows. Her limbs are heavy, as is her mind, so it takes a moment of gazing at Hans to realize he is frowning. At her.

 _Oh_.

"I'm sorry," Elsa sighs languidly in her spent passion, finding what little strength she has left to raise a gentle hand and map the flesh of his shoulder. "Do you need more? I thought you were... _satisfied_."

There is something in the way the lines of Hans almost glisten in this celestial light, something pearlescent-like which makes him appear _otherworldly_. Elsa is suddenly reminded he's something magical.

Hans smiles at her, a helplessly affectionate sort of expression. A flutter of euphoria curls in her chest for him - something entirely unenchanted. The honesty of emotion he inspires in her as of late truthfully scares her.

"Trust that I am absolutely satisfied. I - that's not..." Hans swallows, "I don't - ".

In his silence he buries his face in the crook of her neck, so Elsa wraps him in her arms and cradles him to her. Murmured words that sound like resignation and that she can't catch ghost over her skin, followed by a press of his wet mouth to where her pulse bounds.

"Hu?" Elsa's mind is suddenly clamoring after what may have left him so ineloquent. She tries reconstructing the last few hours. There is nothing but what she would describe as intensely intimate, something like vulnerable affection that burned into passion that tickles her memory.

Elsa realizes her chest feels warm and full and she might burst with this overwhelming urge that makes itself known in the quiet - she has to bite back on three little words that so desperately want to escape for him - words they've sworn never to say.

Instead her fingers curl into his disheveled hair, coaxingly, scribing with inkless script her words secretly to his skin. It will have to do.

"I want to tell you." Hans whispers in her ear, "It's absurdly painful how badly I want to say those words to you."

_Oh, bloody hell._

"Forbidden words." Elsa voice tips dark and foreboding as she cups her other hand around his jaw, pulling his mouth to hers to occupy with a kiss. It take just a breath for his frown to disappear.

Hans breaks from her lips, drawing the pad of his thumb along the sensitive flesh. His mouth pulls a shy smile and Elsa suddenly fears the fool is still actually going to try. He can never seem to follow directions.

"I know you are perfectly capable of defining the word _forbidden_ , so don't you dare," Elsa breathes, giving a hard shove to shoulder. He's rather immovable, much to her frustration. "Rest assured that you shan't survive speaking aloud those words. In any language."

"I think I would," Hans sounds exceedingly confident. He wears that arrogant little smirk of his, the one that says _I'm right and you've got too much dogged determination to admit it._

"Perhaps." Elsa shrugs lazily, hand flopping to her pillow and tangling in her tousled hair. "But perhaps it wouldn't be the magic from your siren's bond that kills you. I can't say for sure."

"Is that so?" Hans laughs quietly. He's really enjoying this far too much.

Elsa tries for threatening. She's not sure she's actually pulling it off right now. "It may be a well aimed spike of ice to your vital blood supply you'll have earned for not following my command that proves fatal."

She can make out the shape of his smile in the darkness. Hans finally concedes, shifts to lay beside her, pulling her into the cove of his body. She privately loves this. Them. Everything. That revelation is still terrifying.

"You are beyond contestation impossible, you know that?" Hans' tone actually suggests he believes no such thing. He drapes a heavy arm across her hip, possessively. "And you have disturbingly violent tendencies."

Elsa melts into him. Sleep threatens to claim her mind once more, so her voice isn't as acerbic as she'd like, "Enchant someone more docile next time."

"But where is..." Hans pauses his complaint to yawn into her hair, "...the fun in that? I do so enjoy a challenge."

Elsa hides her smile at him behind her hand. He sounds drunk, addled by far more than the sleep he hasn't yet gotten.

Somewhere in her dreamy mind Elsa decides she losing her tether on reality. That she is slipping into some insane fantasy where loving Hans Westergård is tangible and easy and the most natural thing in the world, that these fleeting moments are becoming far from fleeting, and can in some absurd way last forever.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :) sorry for going missing - updates shall pick-up from here on out! Last look at where Hans and Elsa are at privately until the end...and you'll be catching a glimpse at Ariel, Melody, and the rest of the Little Mermaid cast (sort of!), in addition to a few other Disney cross-overs.


	18. Games Afoot

"I'm confused," Elsa says. "Why was I called?" She sounds distinctly irritated, not confused as she just stated.

Hans looks up from the page he'd been engrossed in, gloved finger pressed to the side of the text holding his place, to find his affianced not herself. Elsa's color looks a bit off in the mid-day light and her eyes lack their usual glimmer, as if recovering from some sort of mild ailment.

 _Ah_ , _there it is_ , Hans thinks. She's battling nausea.

Her presence at breakfast had been missed (she was sleeping soundly when he left her bed a few hours earlier), Gerda reporting t _he Queen needed a bit of rest_ \- and per Anna, she'd opted to continue resting rather than oversee the last minute arrangements as Hans' family began arriving. Instead, she left Anna gleefully to it, who evidently loves a good party no matter the occasion. There is now chocolate fondue planned as part of the dessert course at the evening's feast, and in addition to the dancing there is to be parlor games for the ladies while the men play cards until the late hours. As Hans was distinctly indifferent on the entire the matter (the feast menu and subsequent games), he remained silent. His only interest was in Elsa, and Anna infuriatingly wouldn't elaborate on what was actually going on.

Adding insult to injury, Hans was not allowed into Elsa's bedchamber to check on her, to satisfy his need to ensure she was protected and cared for - there were irritated handmaidens clucking at him to _stay out._ Even the most loyal of Elsa's guards to him were disinclined to go against Gerda's orders.

( _Traitors_.)

But Elsa is here now, before him. And again, out of sorts.

"My Uncle and Aunt, King Eric and Queen Ariel are here. Given their station, your presence is a necessity." Hans blinks, somewhat confused himself at her disposition. He prays his tone does not match hers. After all, it should be obvious the reason Elsa was called, given the hour. "Again, here. Right now."

"Half an hour away isn't _right_ _now_ ," Elsa complains as she peers out at the harbor through the library's open bay windows. She notes the fact that the gangplank has yet to be lower, as well as observes bustling sailors still securing lines and sails. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, distantly reminding Hans of his cousin Melody and her panache for petulant.

Hans carefully closes the book of records he'd uncovered and had been studying in solitude - finally confirming what he suspected over a month ago. Uma's lair was indeed the late King and Queen's lost ship, sunk in a storm at sea, and now no longer lost. _The H.M.S. INDFØDRETTEN._ Hans has been crafting a plan to retrieve Elsa's parent's crowns from the wreckage, to present as a wedding gift to her. The timeline won't allow for any error or delay, making Hans slightly nervous. It will take the help of his cousin Neptune II, the future Crown Prince of the Sea Kingdom, to pull this off. And likely Anna.

Hans slips his gloves off, slowly approaching a rather uncomfortable appearing Elsa as he decides that he will have to resort to significant intrigues to successfully pull off his plan in secrecy.

Hans comes beside Elsa, who is still glaring irritated at the newest ship in the already full harbor. He takes her hand into his, raising it slightly before pressing a thumb to her wrist, rolling gentle circles of pressure to it. Her gaze catches and she watches him silently.

"You know," Hans says playfully, realizing fully that this may well lead to trouble, "Your impatience isn't one of your more attractive qualities."

"Is that so?" Elsa says. "And what would be one of my more attractive qualities?"

"In addition to your unparalleled beauty and sharp tongue?"

Elsa ignores his remark and raises an eyebrow, gaze still fixed on her wrist in his hand, "What on earth are you doing to me?"

"There is a pressure point," Hans says softly, "Right here. It may relieve the lingering nausea."

Elsa now regards him with curiosity, other eyebrow raising, "Odd bit of knowledge."

"I was prone to sea-sickness as a midshipman." Hans flushes, he's certain. "It was rather severe at times, most embarrassing. This helped some. As well as did ginger tea."

"It does help." Elsa inclines her head, lips pull a faint smile, "Thank you."

"It pains me to know you are unwell."

Elsa opens her mouth, clicking it shut immediately. She sighs in resignation. "So you were told my stomach was ill?"

"No," Hans admits. "Your dignity, unlike mine during my early sailing days, remained intact. I was told simply that you needed rest, and made an assumption as to why as I saw you now."

"You are rather astute."

"I excel at reading people." Hans presses his lips to the crown of her head, murmuring, "I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry." She sounds sincere.

"And evidently I need to bribe your guards better. They fear Gerda more than I anticipated."

" _Nice_ , _Hans_." She huffs a softly amused breath. "Stop trying to manipulate my men."

Hans shrugs unapologetically, smirk playing at his lips. "I could of, if I really wanted to. Again, I was worried."

She offers a tired smile, "I did not intend to worry you, I just felt poorly. The physician says it is simply nerves. I have always been very sensitive, anxiety makes it much worse. It has been years since they have been this bad, but not entirely unexpected given the planned events."

Hans presses another kiss, this time to her temple, lingering. "Please trust there is no need for worry."

"At least there was no unintentional ice this time." She says this as if a victory. Not terribly reassuring.

"And now? How are you, truthfully?"

"I am better."

"I'm relieved. I was concerned you were truly ill."

It strikes Hans that it would taste a lie to suggest he had never envisioned it, never longed to watch as the kingdom of Arendelle celebrated their royal union - the thirteenth in line seated upon a throne and beside a beautiful, reclusive young Queen. A Queen to simply be his pawn to rule by - and at a time and place not so far removed, in fact. He had thought in that vain and arrogant fantasy those years ago, that perhaps his Queen would require a little poison to remain too weak to participate in affairs of state after the birth of an heir, the responsibility falling to her King as she lay. Of course, poison can be tricky - eventually it may result in her death, leaving a seemingly heartbroken, yet well adored, wise, and compassionate King to continue to rule Arendelle after the people demand he remain as Regant until the Crown heir came of age. The whole thing was so elegant in its simplicity. But now, and forevermore, the concept is abhorrent, sickening. To lose Elsa, Hans carefully acknowledges, would be his ultimate undoing, a blow from which he would not recover. He fears he would turn to sea foam and forever be lost in the waves of grief. Now his games and scheming are for her happiness, entirely.

At present, the object of his happiness curls herself into his chest, almost impetuously as she wraps arms around his neck. His arms encircle her form, holding her in place. Her head rests on his chest, watching silently the gangplank being finally placed into position.

"Queen Ariel is the redhead?"

"Yes."

Elsa studies the Queen and royal family as they disembark, "She carries herself differently. Fluidly. As if swimming a dance."

Hans chuckles, "Well. She is a mermaid. A few swim lessons, and you will as well."

"Are you implying I am ungraceful?" She does not sounds the least bit offended, but rather trying to bait him.

"Not at all," Hans offers a reassuring squeeze, "I am simply implying you do not carry yourself the way a mermaid would."

"For the record: I don't swim, nor dance."

Hans hums thoughtfully as he offers her a kiss, something sweet and solicitous. Elsa's eyes flutter closed, offering her own soft sigh. It hooks something low in his gut, something he'd like to allow to burn through him with her help.

"That all is something we must remedy." Hans says, thinking of her body moving with his.

"No." Elsa grins languidly as her eyes meet his, alit and seemingly back to life.

"You can be most uncooperative."

"Evidently you have a weakness for that." Elsa observes his arousal in a rather tactile manner, not helping matters in the least. "But alas, we must prepare to receive our guests."

Elsa pulls away with a pivot on her toes, something precocious and instinctively sensual, and unfairly in possession of the entirety his heart.

The Queen of Arendelle is exasperating.

 _I love you, deeply._ Hans almost says.

* * *

Admiral Prince Johannes Christian Andersen Westergård is dressed in his white Southern Iles' Royal Navy dress uniform for the occasion, full metals and awards, ceremonial sword, and epaulettes, all upon the insistence of his mother.

"A man in full military dress is simply irresistible, and the Queen of Arendelle deserves to have you look the part in style. Trust me, everyone will notice." Queen Adella says with an affectionate smile as she inspected him prior to the engagement gala, absently brushing imaginary dust from his chest. She sighs, seemingly satisfied with her work and gently cups his cheek with her hand. "You're fortunate she'll have you."

Hans, somewhat distracted says, "Yes, Mother. Never mind the fact that Queen Elsa was bound to me. I was sporting slimy scales and covered in salt water and yet she threw herself into the sea to be with me."

He then endures a thirty minute lecture regarding his inadvertent use of the siren's magic when he saved Elsa, his mother revisiting her anger...furious he had enchanted the Snow Queen. She ended with "She does balance you so well though. It is a pity that you made the mistakes you did in the past."

"I couldn't agree more, Mother. I find that I am entirely devoted to her."

* * *

The evergreen gardens off the Grand ballroom offered a quiet retreat to pause before the engagement gala begins. The sounds of music and laughter loft through the warm air, settling over the gardens - the guests set to be announced with the receiving line in the half hour. Hans can be seen in the center gazebo, all formal angles as he speaks with his parents, King Anders and Queen Adella, and surrounded by a dozen brothers and their families (over fifty Westergårds in one place).

And completely unaware of the shenanigans about to ensue.

With a twist of her wrist, magic sparkled and shimmers from her fingertips forming a perfect flurried sphere, growing in diameter at her very whim.

"Wait, no. Bigger. I want snow in places we don't talk about at parties." Eugene whispers excitedly.

Anna's eyes widened with her smile, "YES! And be sure to knock him down, too." Anna bites her lip as she shoots a guilty look at Kristoff, "What? For effect, of course."

Rapunzel shakes her head, "Eugene. Aren't there better ways for you to tell your friend you missed him and are happy to see him after so long? I mean, really…this is a formal event being hosted by the QUEEN of a foreign country. To celebrate her upcoming wedding! She isn't interested in performing parlor tricks revolving around the embarrassment of her future husband in front of his brothers to make you laugh."

"Actually, I am."

Eugene crosses his arms and cocked his head to the side. He offers a raised eyebrow at Rapunzel. "First, yes there are better ways. But your dad had to pull me aside to tell me those other ways weren't 'socially acceptable' remember?" Eugene says, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "And then your mother hired an etiquette tutor for me. Yeah, no thanks. Not making that mistake again. Second, it's not my fault I haven't gotten to hang out with him in over two years because he was too busy _gallivanting_ through the ocean with the fish. I am simply making up for lost time."

Eugene looks to Kristoff, "It's just better not to question male bonding."

"He's got a point there. Besides, who knows how long before Elsa ships him off in chains again" Kristoff adds.

Anna leans over to Kristoff, "I'm willing to bet that if Hans is in chains, he's not getting shipped off, _if_ you know what I mean." She offers a waggle of her eyebrows, suggestively.

Kristoff shakes his head, "You're a mess. Are you drunk?"

Anna scoffs, but doesn't exactly deny it.

"Anna, no worries. This party is going to last an entire _week_ , and I don't plan on being able to remember most of it. But I digress." Eugene turned back to Rapunzel with a most charismatic smile, "Anyway, we're talking about _ELSA_ , your cousin. Who is marrying _HANS_ , one of my best friends. So she isn't just some ' _Queen_ '."

"Elsa, please don't feel obligated to entertain his flights of fancy." Rapunzel sighs.

"Come on, just a little bigger!" Eugene pleads mischievously.

Elsa smiles, an understated sort of twist of lips, and proceeds to direct the enormous snowball straight at Hans' back.

"Uhg! " Hans grunts, knocked forward onto the bench next to his startled parents, rear-up up and most undignified. He quickly rights himself, whipping round and clearly planning retaliation until realization sets that he's standing in a pile of snow.

Laughter erupts into the air.

" _ELSA_. What was that for?" Hans calls, scanning the gardens for the Snow Queen, brushing snow off himself. Elsa shamelessly delights in the entire playful trick.

Hans pauses all movement as he catches sight of her. She's in a dark blue gown made of her ice, shimmering in the evening light. Her shoulders are bare, capped sleeves of simple strands of faceted tiny snowflakes, and without gloves. Her hair is up, formal twist of braids with her golden crown entwined the platinum locks.

When his eyes meet Elsa's, she can't resist the quirk of her mouth, "Sorry." She discreetly lifts a hand, gesturing to Prince Eugene.

Hans' brow lowers, lips thinned to a line.

"Good one, Ryder! But it should have been bigger," laughs Heines, one of the twins as he slaps Hans on the back.

Heines and Hektor, the twins and closest in age to Hans, were at one point partners in crime with Flynn Ryder. They became familiar to moniker of "The Stabbington Brothers", and after serving their time against the crown of Corona, they returned home, amending their ways (for the most part).

Hans turns to his parents, "Please forgive this disgraceful display; I suspect my bride may be conspiring with the Prince Consort of Corona to exact revenge for my absence. May I be excused to address the situation before it gets out of hand?"

His Father smirks, granting permission. Hans presses a kiss to his mother's cheek before spinning on his heel, striding towards the group.

Eugene is still doubled over with laughter, "That was spectacular! Blondie, did you see that?!"

Elsa's eyes haven't left Hans' as he approaches. She watches Hans dart a glance at Eugene, slight childish scowl pulling at his mouth. Hans turns the palm of his gloved hand upright, mouthing " _snowball._ "

Elsa obliges, conjuring a large snowball into Hans' hand.

"Not the nose! NOT THE..." Eugene panics, sputtering into snow, "Nose."

Laughter fills the courtyard once more.

"THAT WAS JUST MEAN." Eugene say flatly to Hans, yet pulling him into an embrace. "It's been too long, my friend."

"I agree" Hans smiles. "I've missed you."


	19. Hovedvandsæg

Elsa blinks, her face wet and fresh from the bath - cheeks still rosy from the warm water. She blinks at Hans with eyelashes spiked with moisture, paler and sharper and so beautiful - almost aglow with her beauty in the dawn light. Although something seems a bit off again today. She's queasy once more, Hans realizes.

"I couldn't resist bringing you a gift," Hans says in way of explanation for his unexpected presence in her dressing chamber so early. He's not been banned yet from her quarters, so he had let himself in. Hans is dressed in hunting attire, Elsa wrapped in a drying cloth. It drapes around her such that she could be mistaken for a marbled statue of a Grecian goddess, come to life. As she smiles softly at Hans, something traitorous flutters in his chest.

"You did?" Elsa says. She silently pads towards Hans, so he brings the wrapped box out from his pocket.

Her lips quirk, "What is this gift? Yet another magical ensnarement or attempt at declaring your undying affections?"

Hans shrugs casually, lips pulling a smirk at her teasing.

"You do realize, however, I will punish you for not heeding my command, or further casting lustful spells upon me."

Hans chuckles lowly, "I shall behave myself, my Queen."

Elsa holds a hand out to accept the box, then makes a show of unwrapping it slowly.

"Stomach still somewhat unsettled this morning?"

Elsa sighs as she works, "Yes. Stupid festivities. Let's just be wed and have it all over with."

"Okay. We'll run away together." Hans can't help but smile fully.

She doesn't respond, but rather suppresses a smile by pressing her lips thin as she opens the box. She lifts the small, sterling silver hovedvandsæg in the shape of a heart with a crown of pure gold atop, and places it in the palm of her hand.

Hans was absurdly tickled with the hovedvandsæg when his father had brought it out last night for Hans to gift to his bride. Something his father had given his mother, whom he married for love, and now for Hans to give to Elsa. Hans had it filled with French perfume oils of gardenias and jasmine.

"Luktevannshus?" Elsa giggles, her eyes betraying how pleased she is. She runs fingers carefully over it, opening the trinket and inhaling the fragrance. Her expression is one of a woman trying to deny how moved she is by the gesture.

"Luktevannshus are meant to be oblong, literally a perfumed egg." She is teasing him.

" _No_..." Hans can't hold back his own giggle, much to his embarrassment. "An hovedvandsæg. An intention of marriage should include a heart, a symbol of love, and the entire experience may require something to awaken your senses."

An egg is a symbol of fertility as well, and Hans is staying as far away from that conversation as he can with a nauseous Elsa.

Elsa grins, rolling her eyes. "Um, luktevannshus and hovedvandsæg signify the same intentions, Hans."

"A nuance. Just one language or tradition verses another." Hans presses a chaste kiss to her cheek, "Irregardless of that, the sentiment is the same in the Isles and in Arendelle. I am indicating my intentions by presenting it to you. It would be an understatement to say this is a little out of order, but the gesture still genuine."

Hans wonders if he would feel as amazing by Elsa if things had developed between them as it should have - a betrothal between a Crown and a lesser princeling. Anonymous, without emotion. Two learning to live, amicably.

"Thank you," Elsa breathes, catching his mouth in a sweet kiss. Hans feels lost in moment. That is until Elsa breaks away, suddenly heaving a gasp.

Her hand flies to her lips, "You should go. Right now." She looks decidedly _green_.

Hans wonders why her weakness, ill with stress and worry, causes him to become so fiercely protective of her. One whom he should not have - certain as the sun rises that he does not belongs here, with her. The Snow Queen should not be his to protect.

"I'm sorry." Hans whispers, mostly to himself.

Elsa, arms wrapped tightly to her middle glances up as she makes her way towards the bath. "Nonsense." Elsa painfully swallows, as if it burns, "Whatever for? My ailment or for loving me?"

Hans can feel the tears welling-up painfully at how easily she just threw that at him. "No. Not any of that. For everything else. What I did at your coronation."

Elsa turns on pointe, stalking towards him with unfailing determination. She doesn't stop, despite how uncomfortable she appears, instead forcing him to wrap her into his arms. She groans, burying her face into his chest. Hans can't think properly. The scent of Elsa's skin and hair is familiar and heady.

"I am not worthy of your affections."

Hans drops his head and frowns into the angle of Elsa's neck, "That's my line."

Elsa shakes her head, and Hans feels so terribly guilty as he meets her gaze. "I am going to be ill, so let's make this quick. I choose you, Admiral Prince Johannes Christian Andersen Westergård to take for my husband, here and now and I am certain you want that."

"Yes, like the air I breathe."

"Okay. We both want this, and we both feel like we don't deserve such happiness because of the sins of our past. Sins we can't seem to forgive ourselves for, despite the fact those we wronged have. So there it is. Now go."

In the blink of an eye Elsa pulls herself from Hans' arms, pushing him away and scurrying into the bath. In the next moment, Hans can make out faint noises of her ailment. Hans steadies himself, and minds her command.

* * *

 

Hans pauses with one hand on his horse's reins and glances at the scene around him - the hunting party coming back together in the afternoon heat. Sitron is sweat-sheened and twitchy with the day's exercise, and gives a little frisk and tosses his head. Hans moves his free hand to lie soothingly on his neck. All the steeds, and men, are in a similar state. Including Sven - although Hans would hesitate actually referring to Sven as a steed.

"This was rather clever, but I shouldn't be surprised. You always did prefer to lead a person to the decision you wanted them to come to and let them think it was all on their own," King Anders offers from somewhere behind and interrupting Hans' thoughts.

Hans turns, finding his father's praise of his preference for manipulation to get what he wants authentic, "Your Uncle Eric was just remarking that talk is rather favorable regarding cessation of whaling by Arendelle among the councilmen and Lords he's spoken with. It would seem your grandfather is gaining influence with humans."

"I'd say the game was a success then," Kristoff concludes. He's not dismounted yet, but rather has been meandering through the groups of men and conversing. Weeks ago it surprised Hans, Kristoff's ability to connect so easily and seemingly genuine with the Arendelle aristocracy. Something Hans has used to his advantage.

Kristoff cards a hand through the damp fringe of hair clinging to his brow, eyes sweeping over the crowd - nothing but Arendelle nobility and visits dignitaries in the field. Kristoff found success in the morning ride - a wolf and two boar, in addition to three pheasants. Hans cannot claim quite the success, only managing a few smaller foul. His game was something political, and at that, he feels he found success.

Truthfully the mountaineer had not been trilled to participate in the hunt, but conceded once Elsa explained Hans' plan earlier: demonstrate the significance that hunting large sea creatures, whale, causes. It is like asking Kristoff, a well respected and a welcomed man to the council, to hunt reindeer. Something that had been banned years ago, because of his efforts (and Sven's). The rules of the hunt were laid out for visiting dignitaries, and the Arendelle nobles each voiced support for sticking to small game - rather than the large game enjoyed years ago.

"It's more than the intrigue," King Eric says. "And I wish I had the foresight following my own marriage to help frame the cultural and personal impact of a cruel tradition and industry to my council instead of simply demanding it was stopped. Although, there was no one with such influence who happened to humanize large game quite like Sir Kristoff and Sven."

"Thank you," Kristoff sounds unsure if he should be offended or appreciative of the king's remarks about his relationship with a reindeer.

"Well," King Anders sighs rather dryly, "I'm far too old for this. I fear I need to retire for a few hours to have the energy for yet another night of dancing."

King Anders draws his horse closer and extends a hand to thump King Eric on the back. It is a gesture of old camaraderie.

"I'll follow suit," Eric offers. "Or else I won't have the stamina to keep up with both Ariel and Melody for a second ball."

The Kings exchange self-depreciating laughs, muttering something amongst themselves as they turn towards the castle.

"Hans, I'm afraid you'll have to help fill dance cards," Eric calls over his shoulder.

"Of course," Hans says. "As long as you're willing to discuss the possibility of renegotiating trade routes with my bride, sir."

King Eric offers a wave of his hand, "Sounds fair."

Kristoff lingers, watching the two monarchs ride back towards the castle. There are still huntsmen milling around nearby, "Hey, can I talk you for a minute?"

Hans nods, nudges Sitron into a walk, slow enough that Kristoff can follow without exciting Sven further.

Kristoff remains silent.

"You certainly put large game hunting into perspective." Hans says. He nods around them at the brisk chaos of the hunting party. The tents and tables of the base camp that were erected before the crack of dawn are now being dismantled by servants, and slowly packed onto carts for transport back to the castle.

"Yup." Kristoff seems to call up an attempt at a smile and bows in his saddle. "We don't hunt reindeer any longer - friends, not food. Whales and such should be the same."

Kristoff sits with odd tension - like half present in the moment, anxious in contemplation of something.

Hans shakes his head. "Facilitating change has to start somewhere, and Her Majesty felt whaling was that place. Additional changes in fishing practices will need time, as King Triton has asked."

Hans waits for Kristoff to speak, tugs on a rein and moves one knee to steer Sitron around where the smaller of the day's kills are being gutted with efficient strokes. The hunting dogs are waiting, with a well-trained motionlessness that barely conceals their eager tension, for scraps of unwanted offal to be thrown their way.

The Crown Prince of the Isles, Caleb, is deep in talk with one of the huntsmen and Prince Eugene nearby, holding his leather gloves in one hand and using them to sketch out some point of argument as he speaks. Eugene looks wildly unimpressed, likely leading to increased gesturing by Hans' eldest brother. As Hans and Kristoff ride past, the Prince looks up and nods at them with perfect courtesy. There is a streak of dried blood along his jawline.

Kristoff persists in remaining quiet.

"Alright," Hans says, when they have ridden a little further and the sharp smell of blood has been replaced by one of trees and dust. "I sense you are debating something."

Kristoff sighs in resignation. He takes a deep breath, "There are folks who think you're out to ruin the Queen with undersea magic. And with control of the Queen, Arendelle will suffer. Talk is that the outlawing of whaling is one example of how you and the merfolk are trying to control humans."

"One just simply needs to know the Snow Queen to realize that nothing, not even undersea magic, can exactly control her." It's nothing Hans hasn't heard before, bias and fear of what and how magic may work. "But yes, I expect there are those who are leery and may have fear. But there is no reason for it."

"I know that now, but I didn't think so in the beginning. If you weren't going to be wed to Queen Elsa, then she wouldn't be enacting the ban." Kristoff seems to chose his words carefully, "And rumor has it the only way to stop the ban, is to stop you."

Hans considers Kristoff; the mountaineer must be giving such rumors significant weight or he'd not have shared the talk. For a moment Hans is caught on the fact Kristoff, cares.

"Have you shared this with Elsa? Your concerns regarding such collusion?"

Kristoff gives a curt nod, "Yah. She wasn't impressed."

"But you are," Hans observes.

"Actually, so is Anna. And it takes a lot for Anna to admit she may be concerned for your safety." Kristoff wears a rather wry grin for a breath, before his grim expression returns. "Listen. Just - promise me you'll take this seriously. Don't blow Anna off. Look into it."

Hans needn't. He already knows it to be true. But he, unlike those that are dumb enough to whisper of suspicions and plots, is able to remain three steps ahead with contingencies neatly mapped out.

So he nods, not showing his hand, just yet. "Of course."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hovedvandsæg - it was with this type of spice box from Scandinavia that a young man indicated his intentions by presenting a 'hovedvandsæg' (in Denmark) to the young lady of his choice ('Svampehus'-sponge house- and 'luktevannshus' -perfumed egg- in Norway). It literally means 'head-water egg' i.e. an 'egg' to contain 'water' to revive the senses.


	20. The Dance

 

Hans has spent the better half the last hour partnering Queen Ariel in various traditional folk dances, the kinds with rapid twists and turns - a quick clap here, switch of partners there - until halting to a finish with her hand in his. The mermaid Queen looks exceedingly pleased, as well as winded now.

Hans offers a polite bow to the Queen, "Thank you, Aunt Ariel. You are an extraordinary dancer."

"Thank you," Ariel breathes. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes alight with tired excitement. She swipes her hand over her forehead, brushing away the sheen, then fans herself informally with both hands attempting to find relief. Despite years of living as a human, she still disregards the decorum that society demand. "That was fun!"

From somewhere to the side, soft laughter catches Hans' ear. It is something distinctly Elsa, formal and controlled yet genuinely amused, so Hans turns, finding Elsa on the dias. She's clearly been deep in some sort of political talk with King Eric, the man looks a bit frustrated. Elsa is a difficult woman at times, stubbornly so, that is when the interests of her people are at hand. Beside King Eric is Princess Melody, bouncing on the balls of her feet and grinning madly.

Hans offers a little wave to his bride -Elsa's eyes light up for Hans so effortlessly, in a way no one else's ever have before that he's certain he's grinning like a fool at the Queen. Pride and disbelief that she actually chooses him for her husband curls like heat in his chest.

Hans hasn't the time to study this new emotion because in a rush his cousin is beside him, coming between her mother and Hans and breaking his gaze.

"I know it isn't etiquette, but I can't care. It's my turn to dance with Hans, mom!" Melody smiles, almost madly. Her excitement is contagious.

"Of course," Ariel smiles gently, offering a squeeze to Hans' gloved hand. "Have fun."

Ariel drifts towards her husband and Elsa as the orchestra offers the introductory bars to the next dance. Something in three-quarter time. A waltz.

The pair spend the first minute or so in idled chat, swaying and turning in time to the strings before Melody says, "Sooooo..."

Hans raises an eyebrow, because here it is. "Yesssss..."

"Siren's curse?"

Hans can feel the red stain of embarrassment spilling across his face. "What about it?" He's going to play obtuse.

"We, half-bloods, are still sirens?" Melody says, far too pleased with the prospect. "Complete with magic?"

"Evidently."

Melody giggles maniacally.

_Maniacally_. Not a exactly a good sign.

"Why do I feel as if you may be conspiring to exact such magic upon a hapless victim?" Hans says.

"That a is ridiculous exaggeration of what I may," Melody says with false indignity and a pregnant pause, "or may not be thinking."

"Melody, you are a terrible liar."

She evidently is unaccustomed to being called out so easily, because she scowls and glares fiercely at a spot on his chest. Hans can't help but grin. He cousin really should have had siblings to harass her growing up. Maybe not twelve of them, but at least one, because this is too easy.

It is another few stanzas of waltz before, "If I tell you why I want to know, you can't tell Daddy."

"I don't want to know." Hans says flatly. He spins Melody in a turn before resuming the waltz gracefully.

"Now you're the liar." Melody retorts once she has her bearings.

Hans can't help but groan, "Okay. Fine. Why would you want to know?"

"There is this guy..."

"Of course there is." Hans interrupts, earning another harsh glare.

"And I am sort of trapped in the _friend-zone_."

"No."

"Okay. But, I just need to be a mermaid, and then kiss him?"

"No."

Melody huffs, "But Hans..."

"No."

"Daddy says I am getting too old to remain unwed, and Mom says I should marry for love."

"You are the Crown heir and can choose whomever you'd fancy," Hans sighs. "And while I am no love expert, supposedly there is one here in the castle. You could speak to him if necessary. His name is Olaf and I can introduce you to him. He's around here somewhere - "

"Hans," Melody groans. "It would be easier just to use a little magic to encourage things along. That's all."

Hans looks at her unimpressed.

"Really."

"Have you spoken with Elsa about this? She can tell you first hand how much it would not help." Hans says.

"No, I haven't. But if I do, will you help me?" Melody says. She appears very optimistic about how that conversation would go.

"She was the unfortunate victim of magic, which she did not appreciate. Luckily things have worked out and I'll tell you the rest of the story if she consents. At that point you can decide if it would truly be worth the risk, and drama, in your particular situation." Hans sighs. "The magic doesn't work as neatly as you seem to think it would. And you'll be risking your life."

Melody stubbornly glares at Hans, "I'll talk to Elsa then."

"It might be better just to talk with whomever he is who has earned your affections. If he is indeed your friend, then there may be more under the surface than you realize."

Melody bites at her lip, "I don't know if there is."

Hans inwardly rolls his eyes at how ridiculous this conversation is, cursing himself. "I am not the right person to talk to about _feelings_."

"I don't know, you seem to be doing okay."

Hans now rolls his eyes outwardly, and glares.

Melody regards him for a long moment, "Perhaps not. Where is this Olaf you speak of?"

Luckily the orchestra concludes the waltz, forcing Melody to bob a graceful curtsy as Hans offers a bow.

"Excuse me," King Eric says out of nowhere. "May I have this next dance."

Hans can't help but grin at his luck, "Of course, Your Majesty."

He watches as Melody accepts her father's gloved hand, and repositions them on the dance floor closer to the strings. It leaves Hans just before the dias with Elsa and Ariel. As he comes to stand beside the two queens, Elsa lifts a hand, halting him.

Elsa's cheeks are flushed from champagne as she says oh so softly, "Ask me to dance." Hans thinks of how a cat would purr a request.

"You've said you can't dance," Hans says slightly caught off-guard.

"No," Elsa ducks her chin in a manner that for anyone else would be considered coquettish. "I said I _don't_ dance. There is a difference."

Hans must be wearing a confused expression because she adds, "I'm not terribly graceful, but my Papa ensured I knew how to dance."

"He did?"

Elsa's smile tips somber, "He was the only man I've ever danced with."

Like a reflex Hans offers his gloved hand to Elsa, "Then I beg of you, please. Allow me the honor of a turn across the floor?"

He's absurdly excited when she accepts it.

She's careful in her movements, precise with each step. Hans almost wonders if she is leading him, the way they float across the ballroom floor. Like she's out to claim the room.

"I know what you are thinking," Elsa murmurs quietly. "I do tend to try and dominate, regardless of the activity, as if ready for war."

"I'd love to see you in battle," Hans says only partly in jest. "It would be breathtaking."

"I _know_ dancing isn't the same as war-". Elsa starts.

"The way you do it," Hans says, "it comes close. The look in your eyes. Like you'd lead armies, if you could, and annihilate anything in your way."

Elsa's breath stops and hums, ridiculously pleased, in her throat. "I love..."

Hans has but a moment to consider how inappropriate he's being when he claims her lips with his. He's certain she' going to make a ridiculous declaration of her affections - if he's not allowed to, neither is she.

Elsa startles, as if reality has suddenly settled back into proper shape. Blue eyes blink unfocused at him, champagne evidently slowing her mind, "Sorry."

"I know. But I think dancing will only get us in further trouble," Hans smiles with a chuckle, "Off to bed with you, my Queen."


	21. Green-Eyed Monster

_Rumors of plots...rid Arendelle of the merman prince._

It was all simply talk, to which Elsa gave no credit to. That is until Hans mentioned Anna and Kristoff's concerns regarding it, in passing.

Elsa scoffed. Naturally. Simply talk.

Then Hans pointed out that the significant financial loss from the cessation whaling may drive a man to such extremes - addled by fear of magic. It will be an industry lost. Those few archaic, small-minded and greedy Lords who are inflexible and stagnate just need to resign from their station, for they are leading the way with poisonous words. Men suspicious and fearful of a merman not just in Arendelle, but of a status beside their Sorceress Queen (who's already proven she can ruin them financially all thanks to her _Eternal Winter_ ). It's all whispers now - spreading like rot and echoing her mind in the still of night. Hans had assured he was fine, and no such collusion would be successful. No worries.

Hans should really know her better than that. Elsa has felt a disconcerted unease all evening (entirely his fault), and for this reason she took to the night's festivities with gusto in an attempt to extinguish it. In retrospect, perhaps it was poor etiquette to indulge in the libations as she had.

Elsa now admits that the third glass of champagne was a horrible decision, because now she's _drunk._ Her usual mental filters are completely gone, as a result she just blurts out whatever crosses her foggy mind as Anna would.

Like a reflex, _I love you_ tried to tumble out her mouth at Hans - Elsa thoughtlessly discarding her own command regard such a declaration. She'd been left embarrassed and disappointed in herself and her blatant disregard of what she has asked of Hans. She'd been left with Hans' suggestion to _sleep_. It felt like punishment. Really, in the end, all the champagne got her was a loosen tongue and a few blissful moments without inhibitions before being sent to bed by her siren, all alone. And she and can't do this...

Elsa stands in the darkness of her bedchamber, with nothing but her own reflection staring back at her through wavy panes of glass as she looks out over the fjord. The night sky and restless sea are behind the glass, and like a mirror Elsa finds an icy enchantress just as dark and restless (her own drunken fault, really).

Hans said he still had a few dignitaries to finish talks with before retiring for the night. She foolishly encouraged him to fulfill his duties, not thinking things through to their natural conclusion. Instead, she felt ridiculously pleased at Hans' ability at the political games of court. Elsa's encouragement did nothing but get her alone.

Stupid alcohol.

To top it all off, the silence of her bedchamber is _drowning_ her. Elsa realizes how absolutely absurd that is - but the silence is heavy and crushing and every fiber of her is calling out for _him_ to soothe this. After all this time, after everything, it seems asinine that longing for him causes such pain. Like being robbed of the very air she breathes. Because weren't they past this?

Elsa raises a single finger to the glass and with a tap she allows her hoarfrost to paint the panes. After silent and still moments of unsatisfyingly staring at the resulting frozen fractals, Elsa huffs, frustrated when her display of ice fails to help alleviate the unease swirling inside, and waves fingers to recall the ice back to wherever it is it comes from.

Get it together... _get it together._

Don't feel... _don't feel._

With the window cleared of ice, Elsa finds (much to her dismay) Hans. The prince has materialized out on the sand of the fjord's beach. He's alone, and she distantly wonders if she now has power to conjure him from thin air. Hans is still dressed as she last saw him; in his Southern Isle's regalia with more layers than she can likely account for, spine straight and formal as he strides to where the rocks jut out into calm pools of ocean below.

Elsa watches as Hans stops; in a swift movement he kneels - his eyes fixed to the water. His lips pull a smirk, then he's seen speaking out over the fjord.

A handful of mermaids appear, breaching the surface in unison as if in an aquatic dance. Each of them is pleasing to the eye in their own way; beauty only accentuated by the rays of moonlight as they move fluidly about with the waves. Their loose hair is adorned with jewels and shells, all which glisten and sparkle as the mermaids swim in the celestial light as if on display for him.

Hans smiles at the boldest of the mermaids in that playful manner he has - the charming one - the one that Elsa _hates_ to find directed at anyone other than her.

He's flirting.

One of the mermaids, that brazenly bold one of particularly fair complexion swims closest to Hans. She has a tail fin of luminescent turquoise scales and breasts poorly contained behind golden shells (lewdly, in Elsa's opinion). The mermaid gestures to Hans in a manner that Elsa interprets as invitation for something torrid.

(Or a swim. But Elsa decides that the intention of the gesture is something wildly vulgar. Because, yah: three flutes of champagne.)

Elsa feels her blood boil at the sight, Hans sharing _that_ smile with anyone else but her. Especially with that watery little tart.

That little tart of a mermaid seems to believe Hans is interested in _her_. Or interested in swimming, (champagne says the former and not the latter), because she offers a wry smile and a splash of water at him, which he playfully deflects.

Elsa looks closer, contemplating just how good her aim might be from this great distance should she try to direct a spike of ice at the impudent little hussy, and realizes there is a merman there.

Elsa blinks. _Wait. How much has she had to drink?_

Yes, he is a merman. Moonlight plays off his golden coronet, distinguishing his station - he must fall in line for the throne of the undersea kingdom, Elsa realizes. A cousin?

She's not yet met the merfolk of Hans' family - those introductions occurs tomorrow - and so Elsa finds herself immediately suspicious and _angry_ for an entirely different reason. Hans failed to mention any plans to meet with anyone from the sea tonight. She watches as Hans turns, then stands, now with something large and wet in his hands.

The jealous, selfish little voice inside her - the one that she keeps carefully boxed away - is _shouting_ at her to go to Hans. Confront and assert herself. She never listens to that voice, but the champagne has this lingering effect of forgotten prudence. So Elsa considers just how to get down to the fjord the quickest.

Elsa fails realize how much time she's spent pondering her next move, aside from recreating her icy gown once more and pacing the rug with ire.

A knock on the back bedchamber door - the hidden one that only few know of, startles her. It elicits a small yelp as her hands ball into fists, clutched tightly to her chest as she whips around.

Elsa halts, then starts toward the hidden door. She'd always been told that passage was only for emergencies, such as _time to evacuate the castle_ kind of emergencies. She's never actually had anyone use it. Till now.

Elsa cautiously disengages the latch, free hand ready to unleash her curse upon whomever stands behind the wood. She peers cautiously around the crack to find Kai holding a lantern and Gerda just behind him with a bundle of drab fabric in her arms. Elsa drops her hand at the ready to attack, and swings the secret door wide.

Gerda dips into a curtsy, eyes heavy and nervous and fixed to the floor beneath Elsa's feet, "Your Majesty. Prince Hans will be staying in the passage room for the night."

Elsa must be wearing a confused expression as she adds, "For his safety."

That snaps Elsa's mind back. "What?"

Kai nods, motioning behind him.

Elsa's stomach sinks, feeling retched for the petty jealously just moments earlier as Hans steps forward. "Hans? Are you okay?"

After an unsteady heartbeat, Elsa realizes the man is not actually Hans, yet appears exceedingly familiar - size and coloring an exact match. A doppelgänger. He comes into the dim lamp light and bows. "This is Bjorn. He will be Hans' decoy in his chambers for tonight."

Elsa's eyes sweep over the man with immense embarrassment, understanding exactly why Gerda may have insisted Elsa be informed of this plan. If Elsa didn't know any better, she'd likely have crawled into bed with this man without a second thought.

Curiosity strikes at Elsa regarding how the guards identified a decoy-Hans so readily. In the next heartbeat Elsa realizes her darling siren likely had a hand in this. It would seem like something he'd do (she vaguely wonders who her decoy may be, certainly Hans has that figured out as well).

"Wait," Elsa gestures to the windows overlooking the fjord. "Hans is on the beach. He is unaware of any imminent threat."

There is a muffled response from the dark passage, somewhere behind the decoy-Hans, and Elsa realizes that the Captain of her personal guard is also in the hidden tunnel. Elsa huffs, wondering just how many more are crammed into the narrow tunnels. This is decidedly awkward.

She impatiently motions for everyone out of the secret passage and into her chamber as they attempt to brief her. Elsa takes in the staff in her chambers. Scanning the group, Hans is not among them.

"The plot rumored to take action tonight, against Hans," Elsa says cautiously, "is in motion?"

As her Captain comes before her. The older gentleman genuflects and says in a clipped tone, "Prince Hans was secured as he returned through the scullery. He is already safe in the passage room. My men are posted."

The expression her Captain wears is like iced water dripping down her spine, sobering. Elsa's eyes dart to Gerda and the bundle in her arms.

"I am to be moved as well?"

The room is silent. Elsa wonders why on earth this is a hard question to answer.

"It is a yes or a no."

Gerda and Elsa both seem to study the rather awkward shifting of sharp shoulders into wilting men around the room. Gerda rolls her eyes.

"Your Majesty, that is up to you." Gerda hurries beside Elsa, "But if I may, given where your nerves have been for the last few days, it may be best for you not to be so near to the danger. Better for you to be close to his highness, ma'am."

Gerda's eyes hint at something scandalous.

"Ah." It is all Elsa's drunk mind can think to say. Embarrassment burns at her cheeks.

Gerda offers the drab brown gown and cap to Elsa to don with an understanding smile. The old woman knows bloody _everything_ , and her smile seems to say Elsa would be found with Hans before the night is out, regardless of what was arranged. Elsa frowns as she considers the awful frock and the old woman who knows far too much.

Well then. Next issue. "Does Anna know what is going on?"

Elsa's Captain clears his throat, "No , ma'am. And it was thought best not to inform her unless absolutely necessary." He exchanges glances with Kai. "Forgive me, but the Princess is terrible with any sort of intrigue. Olaf could manage it more successfully than her."

Elsa raises an eyebrow, although he has a valid point. Alright. "Anything else?"

"You will be notified when the suspects are in custody," the Captain says efficiently. "Likely no later than sunrise."

Elsa nods, and proceeds to change into the drab frock to move into hiding. The adrenaline seems to have flushed the alcohol from her mind, and she completely forgets her jealousy and ire with Hans. There is a bitter taste in her mouth, heart clenching and aching, throat thick with breath and voice stuck inside until she arrived in the safety of the passage room.

Elsa finds her Prince wearing a familiar expression of satisfaction at getting his own way as he greets her at the door.

"Fancy meeting you here, my Queen." Hans practically _coos_ as they are left in the silence of the secret quarters, quite alone.

She then realizes this entire scenario may well have been orchestrated by Hans, for his own amusement.


	22. Intrigues Are Fun

Intrigues are fun.

Just how fun, Hans had forgotten since returning to legs.

It was exhilarating to watch people fall into place so predictably, almost analytic and methodical like little pieces of a chess game. Even when played against a zounderkite of an opponent it was enjoyable. It was a game he'd always loved, the manipulations of court, and this time he'd expertly managed the game and protected his white queen - beautiful and powerful and _dangerous_ \- without having to sacrifice even a pawn with his various diversions.

At the knock on the hidden door, Hans couldn't hold back his delight that Gerda had _actually_ convinced his white queen to don a disguise and come to him for the night (and what was that terrible frock, anyway?). He was practically giddy being left entirely alone with Elsa, to wait until _morning_ with essentially the full knowledge of everyone involved!

The entire intrigue was like foreplay. Elsa seemed to eagerly agree, behaving as though she found the entire experience titillating. At first. He's since changed his mind about the foreplay comparison, deciding instead his queen is _wicked_.

It occurs to Hans that he failed to take into consideration the effects of champagne on Elsa. He considers this now, but it is far too late given the fact he is presently sprawled out nude on a strange bed with wrists ice-bound to a headboard, all thanks to a certain little blonde who wears a rather devious smile, proving exactly who is in control here.

 _ **Her**_.

His wicked sorceress sits perched atop the wide footboard at the end of the bed, just out of his reach. Luckily, Hans muses, she wears nothing but the exquisite strand of South Sea pearls he hoped would distract her from her suspicions of what he was actually doing all evening long.

"Hans." Elsa sighs dramatically, and shifts, putting herself blatantly on display for his eyes to feast hungrily upon. She looks sidelong at him through dark lashes, "What do you have to have to say?"

This scene started with his queen questioning the purpose his meeting with Prince Neptune had in any murder plot. This was as she proceeded to shed herself of the ugly frock, then began to work the shell buttons of his shirt.

There was no purpose of the meeting in regards to the plot - that was a side game, played for her. Her parent's crowns no longer are at the bottom of the ocean floor. They are now safely with Gerda. Hans needs that secret for later, so of course, he lied to Elsa.

 _The meeting was to receive a gift for you, and confirm final details for the wedding regatta,_ Hans said easily.

When he presented the priceless strand of pearls that coincidentally Neptune _had_ given him to gift Elsa, the pearls did not actually distract as expected - although she immediately wore them ( _breathtaking jewels of the sea_ \- Elsa was sincere as she stood nude in his arms admiring them around her neck with awe). The luster of the pearls is magnificent as they fall across her bare flesh the way they do. She'll never be able to wear them again, clothed, without this memory seared into his mind.

He smiles at Elsa's demand, playing into it all and attempting to gain footing.

"I say you are truly diabolical." Hans tries to ignore how utterly arousing he finds this entire scenario (it's not escaped Elsa's notice her effect on him). "Seducing a poor, innocent victim of an ill-conceived plot. Seducing a man who is genuinely fearful for his life with talk of his _murder_. Seducing a hapless man with your wily ways - "

Elsa releases a breathy huff at this accusation, crossing her arms and distracting him with the way the movement accentuates her ample bosom. She isn't helping matters in the least when she wets her lips, so sensually, prompting him to continue. She's absolutely _perfect_. Even at this. Clearly she's won.

"Come now, you can't deny murmuring delightfully erotic words to me, _touching me_ with the sole intent of loosening my tongue. And evidently you've no intention of allowing any sort of _completion_. Only icing me to the bed."

Elsa gaze is cool as she arches an eyebrow, "You kept me in the dark regarding the way you were toying with the conspirators. You had to expect there would be some sort of retribution." There is no denial of her actions. There is, however, clear offense she was not included in his goings-on.

"I am _sorry_. You've not felt well these past days, and I didn't want to further burden you over something rather trivial for fear of another jaunt up the North Mountain, this time after an ill Elsa." Hans says unable to stop his soft laugh from bubbling up at the way Elsa starts to draw breath to cut-off his obtuseness. Even to his ears his response is inadequate.

"Your court is ridiculously simple-minded at times, and it was irresistible not allow this play out." Hans adds.

"What if there is real danger?" Elsa's tone suggests she feels there is little to none, but she presses on, "That is for me, as sovereign ruler of my kingdom, to decide."

"If there was real danger, I would have come to you far sooner and would be safely under the sea, out of the reach of anyone dumb enough to come after me. Not hiding in secret chambers with the reincarnation of Aphrodite herself," Hans smiles charismatically, adjusting his hands in the icy cuffs. Surprisingly, the ice is cool but not _cold_. Not uncomfortable. It is the somewhat awkward position that he's growing weary of.

Elsa rolls her eyes at his flattery, "I'm unsure of your ability to appropriately determine risk, Hans." Elsa says flatly. "May I remind you that you went charging head-first into the lair of an unpredictably dangerous ice witch following a jaunt up the North Mountain, as you put it."

Hans watches Elsa unfurl her legs and stretch almost luxuriously. She is being serious in her accusation, to which he is slightly offended. Offended mostly at the way she described herself.

"You are none of those things and I was not alone in my endeavor. I needed to bring Princess Anna back to Arendelle, to safety." Hans glances away with a causal air he does not feel. He doesn't like to talk about their shared past these days so he adds, "I am a wiser man now, Elsa. Not the man I once was."

His statement falls flat and Elsa looks at him, eyes slowly climbing to meet his. She is likely thinking the same thing as him, not wanting to really dive into what happened a lifetime ago. They were both different people. It is the slightly cautious shifting in her posture, like an apology for bringing up how they first met that leads Hans to believe this.

Elsa's eyes fix low on his wrists. She sighs heavily, fingers playing absently the large pearls at her neck.

When she fails to respond but keeps her gaze on one of his wrists, Hans aims to change tact. "Admiring your handy work?" Hans says lightly, teasing, and smiles for show when her eyes flick to his. He wiggles his fingers playfully.

A stifled laugh escapes her, a warmth spilling across her cheeks as she meet his eyes. She gathers her limbs together fluidly, folding her legs under.

They sit in a comfortable silence, watching each other until, "Where did you find a decoy-Hans, so fast? And is there a decoy-Elsa?"

Hans chuckles, thrilled she's interested in how he's played the game, and drops his head against the headboard. Decoy-Hans, as she puts it, was easy. During one of his first days back in Arendelle, Hans stumbled across the man in the stable forge having just finished shoeing Sitron. Hans later learned Bjorn, the farrier, came from a very loyal family having serves the Royal family for generations. In fact, man's father was one of the few staff left on when the castle gates were closed. It was simple to elicit Bjorn's support, of course well compensated.

Decoy-Elsa, on the other hand, has proved a challenge. Elsa's beauty and features are unparalleled, truly. The few women who may successfully stand-in for the queen have lacked the strength of character Hans feels is needed for such a role. There is the eldest daughter of the pastry chef who will do in a pinch, but the hunt continues.

"Come closer, and I shall share my secrets with you," Hans bargains. He's truthfully just dying for Elsa to allow him to touch her once more, for his mouth to grace her flesh under the guise of a whisper. Again, Hans admits to himself he finds this entire scenario, ice-bound and at her mercy embarrassingly arousing.

Elsa considers him, "You still haven't been straight with me about the canoodling mermaids. Who were they?"

Hans laughs at that, earning a slight frown. "You must admit, it all is a little funny. You thought Prince Neptune was a mermaid, and you felt jealousy regarding my interaction with him."

"I do not like to be made a fool." Elsa ducks her head, the weight of her loose hair cascading over her shoulder. The pull of her mouth is like a hook as she attempts to school her smile. "And he was dressed funny, if you call that dressed."

"I would never make you a fool, Elsa." Hans says with humor. "He was trying to disguise. It's better not to ask."

"The rest were mermaids." At that Elsa unfurls herself, sinuously crawling over him, eliciting a shiver of renewed anticipation from him. She is fastidious in her movements, careful to avoid actually touching him. "You looked at one with particular familiarity," Elsa adds, there is hurt poorly concealed in her eyes despite her brazen behavior.

"Yes," he admits. No point in lying, Elsa clearly knows what she saw. "One of the mermaids who accompanied Neptune tonight actively sought my favor not that long ago. And I did feel she was a smart match at the time. Grandfather had encouraged me to consider her for marriage."

Elsa freezes, stilled with narrow-eyed surprise at his honesty. She exhales sharply with a strange laugh, one with very bitter edges, "Oh."

_Oh no. This is bad._

"Please thaw your ice." Hans says with quiet urgency in the stillness.

"I will say those forbidden words to you right now, should you allow me to." It's not meant as a threat, but rather a promise of his very real devotion.

He needs to hold her, reassure and wrap her in his arms - now. She must sense his urgency, because she actually heeds his command. In the next moment he's captured Elsa, knees knocking together as he folds her into him. His fingers weave between hers, holding her still to his heart as she buries herself in his chest. Words he can't catch soak into his skin, something desperate and very hurt. Hans holds his tongue and waits for her to speak, offering reassurance through the press of his kiss to her hair.

"I understand you had a life under the sea, before this," and Elsa makes an unhappy wet sound, "before us. You didn't exactly choose this fate."

"No, but if I could have known this reality, I would have fought tooth and nail to have you."

Hans hates himself, hates that he wasn't more careful with his words. Elsa is still inebriated, not exactly in her right mind, rather easily influenced by her emotions.

"Although I understand on a certain level, logically, that your devotion and affection are mine alone, I don't like seeing proof your affections were bestowed upon another, regardless of the timing." She's hot and wet and this isn't at all how Hans envisioned this night going in the least.

Hans threads fingers into the silk of her hair, curling fingers to her scalp, "Elsa, please trust my heart is yours, entirely." There is a far-off look to her, but she nods.

"No more talk," Elsa whispers, and forces him back into the mattresses. She swipes at the moisture in her eyes, causing him to frown, following the motion with his thumb as he takes her face into his hands. Hans lifts her chin, bringing her mouth to his for a sloppy press of lips and teeth that elicits a soft gasp. Elsa pulls back, making no attempt at a reassuring gesture or word, rather continues to wear her distress openly.

Elsa presses into his side, feet catching between his and wrapping his arms around hers - and settles to sleep. In the quiet of the castle, Hans is at a loss of how to fix this, if it even indeed needs fixing (it feels like it does), and follows suit allowing sleep to claim his mind.

* * *

The conspirators are caught, weapons drawn. They are quietly drug off to the dungeon to be _handled_. The news comes with the break of dawn, as does an Elsa more nauseous than previous days, and cursing champagne.


	23. I Told You So

"Are you certain you don't wish the physician fetched, ma'am?" Gerda asks with unfailing politeness. Again.

"No. I'd rather someone just kill me now," Elsa mutters slowly, shuffling with dampish steps and dripping hair along the wood floor. She lifts a hand deflecting the glare from her eyes of morning sun as she passes an eastern window. "And you were wrong, Gerda. The water did not help."

Elsa just feels like a drowned rat after the bath. Literally. Her head is a foggy haze of throbbing pain, her stomach protesting movement in an extremely undignified manner. Elsa distantly wonders if gouging her eyes out would alleviate some of the agony.

"Sorry ma'am, but it was worth a try." Gerda calls out from the bath with far to much cheer for Elsa's liking. Her head hurts worse for it.

Elsa sighs, reaching her destination and depositing herself at the foot of her bed. _Horizontal_ is a wonderful position.

Elsa can hear Gerda's footfalls as she begins trailing into the bedchamber, clicking along the parquet floors. She halts. "My queen? You're laying down?"

"Yes."

"You are to hold audience with His Majesty King Anders." Gerda is positively shocked, "To sign your marriage accord. In a little over an hour!"

"Mm."

Elsa can feel the old handmaid's eyes study her as she curls into a ball, drying cloth bunching in odd ways and exposing her back and to the cool air. Her wet hair will surely leave spots on the silk duvet and soak through to the down. Elsa can't bring herself to care.

"I will check on you in little while then, ma'am." Gerda refrains from further comment and turns, taking herself into the parlor. She leaves the door to the bedchamber ajar.

In the remaining silence, Elsa lays long enough that she contemplates dozing-off. However that thought is dashed when she hears the unintelligible rumble of a low voice from the other room. It is someone male, and not the old royal physician who's cared for Elsa since birth. That leaves only one other man would dare to bother her in her present state:

 _Hans_.

Hans says something else, something she can't make out. It is followed by the gentle lilt of Gerda's laugh, crisp like a bell, shy and pleased. Elsa decides Hans could charm a snake without need of a pipe to play on, and old woman should be ashamed of herself for flirting with future Consort - allowing him to charm his way into Elsa's chambers.

A heavy exhale in an attempt to drive back a wave of nausea and Elsa resigns herself to the fact that she will have to face the charming bastard despite her ailment. It is the last thing she wants, to appear ill and weak (and somehow _inadequate_ \- broken). Especially after how things were left between them last night.

Stupid plot. Stupid champagne. Stupid mermaids.

Gerda laughs again, and Elsa starts counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Ei -

"Forgive me - Your Majesty?" Fabric rustles, skirts swishing like in dipping motion.

Elsa sighs, eyes blinking open momentarily only to squint shut in the light. "Yes?" She fully expected to get to the count of ten.

"Poor Prince Hans..." and _oh, there is nothing poor about that prince_ but Gerda continues, "It is sweet how very concerned he is about you."

Elsa glances up at Gerda, her head throbbing. She blames Hans for her excess libations in an attempt to distract herself from the anxiety of the looming charades, and thus her current predicament. Ridiculous, yes. Elsa can recognize that. (But it is still his fault.)

Gerda adds, "He is worried. If I may be so bold; perhaps he could be granted entry? He wishes to offer his assistance with strengthening your constitution."

Elsa almost laughs. _What? What does that even mean?_

Gerda is so serious, too. Elsa's eyes flutter closed and she makes a grunting noise, one that she figures Gerda can interpreted any way she likes.

"Of course." Gerda says very satisfied.

Affirmation, then. (Fine.)

"Ma'am? Will you be rising?"

There is the very sensible, rather ingrained Victorian part of Elsa that is furiously trying to demand she maintain propriety, although against her will. It fervently reminds her she does not want Hans to see her like this. So Elsa manages to sit up and back against the pillows, arranging herself carefully with the drying cloth offering modesty. She's rather proud of herself. "He may enter."

Gerda clears her throat, and looks confusingly at Elsa.

Elsa stares blankly.

"Perhaps, ma'am, you prefer to..." Gerda makes a rather awkward gesture with her fingers.

Before Elsa can work out anything - such as _oh right...conjure my icy gown_ , Gerda sighs.

The handmaid unfurls the blankets and tucks them around Elsa, then fetches a night-jacket. It's the gold and cornflower blue one with a pattern of vertical hearts along the gold stripe that Elsa is fairly sure it is Anna's, which just never made it back into her closets after Elsa's fever years ago. Gerda steps back after fastening it around Elsa's shoulders. With an assessing glance at Elsa, she rolls her eyes and frowns.

Elsa can feel the blush burning all the way to her ears as she ponders at what point does she get to abandon the ruse of Hans not having intimate knowledge of her. It would make everything much easier...but seems so _torrid_. Elsa suddenly hates the look in Gerda's eyes, the way her mouth opens to offer false reassurance only to snap shut.

Elsa is absolutely mortified. Gerda had swaddled her and has cared for Elsa her entire life, since infancy. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to..."

The old woman pauses at the door wearing a fond expression, "I understand, my Queen. We can talk later if you'd like."

Elsa tries for a smile, "Thank you."

Movement catches in the corner of Elsa's eye, and in moments Hans has stubbornly inserted himself into her bedchamber and is proceeding across the room. He's dressed bold and fitted in coordinating shades of blue, and despite his urgency he's held formal and perfect. The _you can't see me like this, Hans_ is suddenly sticking to Elsa's tongue.

The mattresses dip as he seats himself right beside, right on the bed, without a glance or consideration of what anyone would think or presume from the gesture. Hans claims her hand in his and studies her face with immense frustration, adrenaline, and something like _desire_. A hint of embarrassment curls into the edge of Elsa's mouth.

He presses his kiss to her hand with what Elsa can only describe as overwhelming relief.

"Hi," Elsa says dumbly.

With a flourish he reveals a gardenia to offer. "Have you seen your staff preparing sprays of these all over the castle this morning? The scent hangs in the halls and is exquisite." Hans proceeds to tuck it behind her ear.

"It is lovely. My favorite." Elsa is beyond confused by his courting gesture but her head hurts too much to study this, so she closes her eyes. It leaves something that flutters excitedly in her belly - not nausea for a heartbeat - something pleasant at the idea that Hans holds her in his thoughts like she can't be forgotten, unafraid to show her the desperation he still has to be near her without magic forcing him to. She releases the breath she'd not even realized was caught.

His other hand takes the weight of her still-damp hair to shift over her shoulder, fingertips gently brushing the tender skin at her neck and sending a slight shiver down her spine. Her hair moved allows her to rest her head back fully in the nest of pillows as he presses reverent lips to her temple. She wants him to kiss her properly, fully, for a heartbeat before the blasted nausea reminds her she's ill. All she can think to say is, "I don't feel good."

"I'm sorry," Hans murmurs with a hitched breath into her hair. Her eyes open finding his green and intense, like trying to unlock secrets. Like when he told her that it was absurd that he needs her with an intensity that lacks any rational explanation of use behind it. He's begun attempting creative ways to describe loving her which won't result her becoming irritated at him for trying.

Elsa watches him watching her, embarrassment lingering. Long moments stretch before Elsa finds it intolerable and she closes her eyes. There is a nervousness not so well hidden in her breath, "Say something."

"Truthfully, I'm a bit overwhelmed at the moment seeing you like this." He's _bashful_.

"The resulting discomfort from my overindulgence in alcohol, or my impaired judgment which led to it's consumption?"

"Not exactly either," Hans says, so soft and caring as his thumb mapping the ridges between her knuckles.

Elsa opens her eyes to watch as Hans leans back to take her in, eyes roaming her form. Hans is blushing madly, freckles like constellations she's spent weeks mapping, and he smiles so very soft and besotted - and Elsa can't make out why.

"What then?"

"May I share that later, when you are feeling a little better?"

Elsa consider this, "Gerda is telling tales that you've come to heal me."

"In regards to the veisalgia, I know what may help."

Elsa raises an eyebrow, "Of course you do. More antics from your midshipman days?"

Hans throws his head back in a gregarious laugh, the sound surprised and self-depreciated.

"Don't laugh so loud." Elsa scolds weakly, only because the noise of it hurts.

Hans schools his laugh into a silent giggle, breath jumping with it as he kisses the inseam of her wrist as apology, "Sorry. And yes."

"Mm," Elsa sighs, even smiling sort of hurts yet she can't help it. "Well out with it. I am supposed to sign our bloody marriage accord within the hour. I don't wish to fall sick during the middle of _that_."

* * *

 

It is the late afternoon when Elsa finds the pleasant chatter of the ladies at the Queen's Tea a sheer delight.

Anna presses close, grabbing at a tea cake, "You look much better. You've got to be excited about that."

Elsa glances back at Anna from her conversation with Queen Ariel and Queen Adela, and smiles.

"The aching fog of my head which cursed me upon rising this morning has ceased," Elsa says quietly, although she's sure it is a futile endeavor to keep it quiet. Word travels fast in a castle. She's fairly certain all know she was suffering from the poisoning affects of the daemon liquor earlier.

"It went fast. I mean, you recovered fast. When I suffered from that after a night of drinks with the ice harvesters, I couldn't move until sunset."

Elsa remembers vividly. Anna was a mess, worthless and pathetic with her self-inflicted illness. Elsa gives a slight shake to her head, "Don't laugh, but Hans helped."

"Has he got magic to fix that, too?" Anna is absolutely serious. "Wow. I'm beginning to think mermaids must make excellent physicians."

Elsa can't help but laugh as Anna smiles brightly in response, "No, Anna. No magic for this. Just pushing fluids as Hans called it - something with spirit of nutmeg and peppermint water."

"Are you sure there was no magic?" Anna sounds positively disappointed.

Elsa glances up, Princess Melody is wide-eyed and enamored.

"Unless there was magic in eating. It certainly defied any reasonable logic to me, but a small helping of greasy breakfast foods also helped."

"Hu. Mermaid magic would have been more exciting."

Princess Melody sees to agree, nodding at Anna as she pushes her tea to the side. She plops her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. "I'm really curious about your romance with Hans. There was magic?"

Elsa glances nervously around the suddenly quiet table as Anna snorts, "Romance?!"

Elsa shoots a look at Anna, which doesn't slow her sister in the least, "More like a strangely destined series of unfortunate events."

"Like destiny?" Melody tips forward, enthralled with the idea.

"I feel like if anyone threw a word like _DESTINY_ at Hans, he would hiss and put his shoulders up and probably start charging, figuratively, in the opposite direction." Elsa says amused. She may be describing her reaction, but she and Hans are truthfully quite similar.

"How did it happen? Like, he saved your life?"

Elsa nods, hating to have this conversation. It feels too personal, and something meant to be kept private. "He did save my life, in many ways. I am pleased to have him for a husband."

"But how did he, exactly, convince you of that?" Melody flips locks of jet black hair back from her eyes, glancing at her mother who is watching narrowly. "I mean, the romance?"

Queen Ariel snaps, "Melody! We've already had this talk with Daddy. No means _no_."

* * *

 

It's been a week of wedding celebration ringing throughout the kingdom. Elsa continues to randomly fall sick throughout, but is well enough to participate and smile when expected - falling exhausted into Hans' arms each night.

Once again she finds herself in bed and waving off a physician and scowling at Hans who's bound and determine to coddle and cosset her. She also finds a new dilemma: Anna has brought rocks into the castle.

"No, Elsa." Anna stands sharp and authoritative before her, "Enough. Something is wrong and you have to admit now."

Something pulls at Elsa to persist in demanding all is fine, mouth pulling to offer denial. Hans cuts across with, "Why a troll?"

There is a quirk of Elsa's brow as her gaze rises to meets his from below her lashes. "What? Why not?"

"It's a legitimate question," Hans quips privately, taking full advantage of the liberties the band of gold upon his left ring finger grants him. He combs his fingers through hers, snagging a hand to hold. "Others with magic don't seem to garner your trust as easily."

Elsa rolls her eyes, glancing at the wise troll.

Grand Pabbie lumbers forward, "I offer a different perspective, when it comes to magic, and those of us who possess it." He's thoughtful as he approaches Elsa, stopping and watching her, as if studying an ancient tome.

"Nothing is wrong, Your Majesty," Grand Pabbie says finally.

Anna huffs and gestures towards Elsa, "There is certainly something wrong...you have to help her. Can't you help her? Is there nothing you can do?"

"No," the old troll is confused.

"Seriously? Is there nothing that can be done to stop Elsa from feeling like she's gonna toss her cookies? It's been _days_."

Grand Pabbie smiles warmly, "It will eventually pass. Time is needed."

Elsa finds frustration mounting as the conversation continues, the fact the old troll can never give a simple response infuriates her. She doesn't temper her own tone, "Time?"

"Yes."

"Why?" _Stop talking so cryptic_ , Elsa wishes to demand.

"You carry a child."

The world seems to plunge into a darken abyss, neither sound nor light able to escape. Elsa's heart painfully clenches before taking a leap from her chest into her throat. She's fairly certain she did not hear correctly. Because she _can't_.

There is a pull on her hand, a squeeze, which tugs her back and she finds Hans' smile bright like a beacon. He buries his euphoria in the crook of her neck, breathing something that sounds suspiciously like _I told you so._

In the next heartbeat Elsa decides she is never, ever, _EVER_ going to tell herself what she can't do. The words _I can't_ shall forever be stricken from her vocabulary.


	24. A Curse Broken

 

The moment they met, their lives became extraordinary. They just didn't know it at the time, see each other as they should have. How things could have been if they had known, Elsa simply can't imagine. Certainly not half as wonderful as what they have now, after enduring the pain of failure and tragedy as they both have, emerging victorious. This thought occurs to Elsa as she lays in the dawn light beside her husband - her husband.

Hans is still soundly asleep at her side, and she's developed this terrible habit of watching him in the half-light as morning begins to brighten, mapping his features and the constellations of freckles that adorn his skin. He looks warm and entirely hers, his mouth slightly slack and still breathing slowly in dream. Hans is powerful and full of vitality (and a certain amount of magic) in his own way, yet so fragile in this light. Something too easily lost, Elsa thinks as she carefully brushes a lock of auburn from his forehead.

Elsa drops her hand to her belly, the not so small bump now so obvious to her and Hans (and Anna and Kristoff), but entirely unnoticed by others. For how much longer, there is a wager - Hans feels by Christmas for certain. Her mouth curls and she presses her lips softly to the side of his, so fleeting it hardly counts as a kiss. She pulls back an inch or so to watch his expression grow into awareness.

Hans begins to smile before even opening his eyes, the large hand at her ribs flexing to hold her in place. Green eyes blink open with a pleased vocalization as his other arm come round her to drag fingers up her form and through her loose hair as it spills around them.

Elsa grins at this sleep-drunk version of Hans, "Good morning."

"Yes indeed," Hans sighs, pressing her so close so they are delightfully skin-to-skin. His eyes blink blearily to focus a kiss. He lingers with his lips on hers for a heartbeat before murmuring something else.

There is a rush of something unnamed, maybe magic or something like the loss of it, and Elsa suddenly tastes salt on her tongue and her heart races, like in terror. She jerks back a fraction as her eyes fly open; the world is blurry, like it's now underwater.

With an attempt at gasping for breath she finds it hurts - hurts to draw the air she needs and there is a growing pain in her chest.

She focuses on Hans in the next heartbeat and find him in agony - she realizes he's drowning. Despite this he smiles small and patient, waiting. Fearlessly.

Like an epiphany, Elsa knows exactly what Hans said. Memories flood her mind of her drowning, vague images of the darkness and Hans saving her, and the way if felt as the siren's magic granted her life and created their bond. That magic is now broken. He said _I love you._

Something fierce and determined, almost defiant, overwhelms her and she won't loose him. She knows what the magic made her feel for him, and she knows what she feels now. There is a clear difference.

"I love you," Elsa pants as she drops her mouth back to his, tears welling up and burning her eyes as she offers her own breath to him in a kiss.

Instantly the pain is erased, and he's kissing back in between frantic iterations of _I'm so sorry it just slipped out_ and _I love you_. The passion ignited burns through her gloriously slow, leaving her spent and happy.

Only after Elsa is positively certain that Hans is indeed sated as well, the magic dissipated entirely, does she press up to glare at him (completely ineffective given the euphoria seeping from her).

"What is _wrong_ with you? Can't you follow even the simplest command?" Elsa forgets to hide her smile.

"I can't argue with you right now, my love. I'm too happy." Hans can't stop grinning, and he has the nerve to giggle. "I love you, Elsa."

"I so I heard."

"You love me."

"Obviously."

"No - you _love_ me," Hans says with awe. "I knew you did, but it is overwhelming to hear spoken aloud after all this time. And the bond is broken - the curse gone. You saved me, like something from a fairy story."

"Trust I am questioning that decision at the moment." Elsa huffs at Hans laughter, yet drops back to press a sloppy kiss to somewhere on his jaw before burying herself in his arms.

Elsa finds herself clinging to him with the same irrational intensity he is to her, like she's his lifeline and he can't let go. Life has finally shifted into perfect focus, this second chance he granted her.

She'll never let go.

And they lived happily ever after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue:)


	25. Epilogue

The strain of producing new life does tax so. Elsa finds it makes one want to go out and do something very tender and protective, like conjure an icy fortress complete with abominable snow-beast the moment someone suggests anything displeasing, as Hans is.

"The entire family will be there. His entire kingdom - "

"I cannot abide a sea journey to the kingdom of Atlantica . Such a thing would be altogether deleterious," Elsa drawls. She presses a hand to the apex of her rather bulbous abdomen, curving slowly to accentuate her point. Her hand halts when something hard and boney, likely a tiny foot, protrudes back at her. The babe won't stop squirming, making this conversation all the more awkward because she can't concentrate. Elsa fears the babe is in cahoots with Hans. She presses back, adoring that she can interact with the babe in this manner. The babe move a centimeter and kicks again. Elsa smile is small and fond.

She glances up to find Hans giving her a rather flat look.

 _Fine_. Elsa is reduced to calling a spade a spade.

"Transformation to a mermaid doesn't sound appealing. Hans. I'm _huge_. You really want to be seen with a pregnant whale?"

"Ye - No!" Hans backpedals ridiculously fast. "You are absolutely not huge, you don't even look pregnant from behind." Elsa distantly wonders what makes Hans think that argument is even valid.

He continues with the utmost sincerity, "I want to be seen with the woman I love. She is truly the most exquisitely gorgeous creature anyone has ever laid eyes upon."

At that Elsa groans, and Hans finally concedes to address the issue, "So you happen to be heavy with child - that makes you all the more beautiful. Ravishingly so."

Elsa presses her tongue to the back of clenched teeth, working out how to to say, _it feels inappropriate for a woman in my condition to bear that much flesh - mermaids wear next to nothing_. But she can't make out how to phrase it such that she doesn't insult an entire culture - that of her unborn child's ancestors. Ugh.

" _Two hundred years_ , Elsa. Grandfather has been ruling for two hundred years." Hans reminds her.

"Yes. I understand the significance of that. That isn't the problem."

Hans sighs, comes beside her and wraps her in his arms. His hands almost restlessly search her belly for long moments for the babe - his breath hitching as he finds an elbow or something scooting along by her naval. Hans stops his hand and presses his palm to feel. His breath is atrociously hot against her skin, so sensitive these days. She won't complain, however. He makes her feel as if she's a _goddess_ , adoring her like something divine.

Hans kisses her neck, his smile smeared to her skin as he murmurs, "You'd be far from the first female to be a mermaid and pregnant. It is a beautifully natural state that is just as miraculous to merpeople as it is to humans."

Elsa allows her head to drop back, her eyes fluttering closed. She draws a cleansing breath, controlled with the rise and fall of her chest, because damn Hans and his ability to pursued.

"Okay."

And so it is that Elsa finds the ocean is crisp in May; it has a bite refreshing and welcome after the first run of unseasonably hot days in Arendelle. Just perfect for King Triton's bicentennial jubilee celebration - an historic occasion demanding the honor of Elsa's presence at Hans' side for the undersea festivities. Or so Elsa reminds herself for the umpteenth time.

It's been a day under the sea and she still feels a _fool_. As if on display, a curiosity. One for all of King Triton's court to see - the Snow Queen of Arendelle and her merman King Consort.

Talk of the significance Triton's jubilee holds has been practically overshadowed by speculation the potential magical powers Triton's unborn great-grandchild may yield, part icy sorceress and part siren, destined for the throne of Arendelle by right of blood and birth.

Hans catches wind of the chatter (magical mathematics of the unborn child's parentage) almost immediately, confiding privately to Elsa, "We may be in trouble if our little one actually does possess magic. Imagine a male in puberty possessing power and firm knowledge that his parents are idiots."

Should or should not the child have magic has always been the elephant in the room - never actually talked about between them, although in moments Elsa accidentally makes the room snow, she almost brings it up. 

"Excuse me?" Elsa is genuinely bewildered by this.  Why now, and because  _what_?

"My Father was faced thirteen times with an age fifteen Prince possessing the sure knowledge that his parents knew nothing about anything." Hans says in way of explication, rather ruefully. "The horror should one of us have actually had the capacity to demonstrate how stupid we truly were, is immense."

There is not a trace of humor in his voice. Elsa finds that terrifying.

Elsa has been watching Melody shamelessly flirting with a handsome merman, one with dark eyes and a warm smile. He seems receptive enough, but it may be simply due to Melody's station. "Or an girl infatuated with the impulsivity and power to take what she wants."

Hans pales further. "Not funny."

(They subsequently agree not to think on it any further, and simply tune-out any speculation. Mostly because there is no going back now. The babe is to be welcomed any day, magic or not.)

Festivities continue, the pomp and circumstance of the illustrious Sea-King's anniversary. Aquatic creatures swim effortlessly, in synchrony to music all around, adding to the insult Elsa feels.

At present, Elsa is trying desperately to fight the warmth flooding her cheeks as she comes to terms with the fact that although she may be the size of a whale - she can't seem to swim independently like one regardless of how much practice she gets.

Elsa glares at Hans as she heels once more.

"You really are too hard on yourself. You're doing brilliantly."

Elsa scowls.

Hans is enjoying this far too much, helping her swim.

"I'm far from a delicate china doll."

Hans ignores her. "You'll get this...it takes a little practice." At least he doesn't sounds as if he speaks to a simpleton.

"Just let me go beach myself already," Elsa grumbles as she overcorrects, this time listing slightly.

"Once again, stop drawing similarities to yourself and a whale."

Despite her remarks, Hans (the idiot he is at times) somehow understands her to be offering an invitation to molest. He's been behind her to stabilize as she practices buoyancy, and he keeps touching her. Hans finally decides that now she's needing to be pulled flush against him. Firmly. A rather inappropriate breathy moan escapes him.

"We're -," - _not alone_ , Elsa tries to scold as she realizes how aroused the man is, batting his wandering hands from where they settle inappropriately low on the swell of her belly. "Hans, you have to behave."

Hans pulls a face, somewhere between offended and indignant, but with his eyes glittering in amusement. "Trust me when I say this is _behaved_."

Elsa knew it was a horrible mistake to cave into Hans' fantasy. He'd mentioned enough times how exquisite he found her in mermaid form, how he'd so desperately wanted to see her again like that. Especially while in such a state of motherhood, with his child.

The only saving grace in this situation is that mermaids have been flirting shamelessly with Hans - smiling and cooing, batting eyelashes and with plump lips and he's utterly ignored them - Elsa finds the canoodling mermaid snubbing very satisfying. That and his grandfather's presence with the entirety of his family.

Hans adjusts his hands to a more appropriate location with a grumble of dissatisfaction as he glances towards his father and grandfather nearby. Elsa can't help but laugh at Hans, catching Queen Adella's attention.

"You are doing wonderfully, my dear. Every mermaid struggles a bit with buoyancy and movement at the end of her pregnancy." Queen Adella smiles warmly, entirely unaware of her son's wickedness. "Truthfully, I found it extremely uncomfortable to be a woman on land, heavy with child. Being in the water, swimming, was a relief."

Hans husks softly in her ear, "I believe I said something similar to that."

"You have no credibility whatsoever regarding such matters," Elsa laughs once more at the pull of Hans' frown.

Hans' mother is exactly right about the relief being in the water offers, the way it envelops one and lightens weight. By extension Hans is right as well, but that's not the point. Elsa had been aching with pains, increasing in frequency and regularity for the past day and a half. The pains prevented a reasonable night of rest last night, and have persistent through the day. She has felt better since being under the sea, although her abdomen still feels taut with regularity - it does hurts less. There no way Elsa is telling Hans any of that, validating him once more.

It would be just an hour or so later and one of the pains strike so severely that Elsa halts with a caught back groan, hand on her belly and the other gripping Hans' arm fiercely. Her stomach is hard as a _rock_.

"Elsa?" Hans wears a look of concern. The pain has stolen her voice, so she grabs for his hand and forces it to her abdomen. "Why is your belly so _hard_?" Hans is bewildered.

Good. He gets the problem.

"Mother?" Hans cries out, poorly hidden desperation in it as he directs Elsa to a nearby place to rest, a private alcove off the sea-garden.

Queen Adella is at his side in an instant, followed by Queen Ariel and _oh lord_ , the rest of the family. Elsa doesn't need to protest this as Hans immediately begins managing the crowd back and away from the spectacle Elsa's created while the mermaid queens talk in hushed tones.

"Something is wrong," Elsa manages.

"When she's ready, help her back to her quarters. I'll fetch a midwife." Adella is calm and assertive as she speaks to Ariel before she turns back to Elsa. "Darling, it's time. This babe is ready.  You're laboring."

Elsa gives a rough shake to her head, panic setting in, "No. Not now - please." Anna's not here. Anna is not here.  She's supposed to help, what if the magic gets out of control?  Elsa's a _bloody_ mermaid - what will this mean for the babe? What if the babe is born human, needing air? She knew she should have started confinement, rather than let Hans talk her into coming to this undersea jubilee. Where is Hans - this is all his fault. It's a bloody disaster.

Elsa finally sees him, across the garden watching her from afar as his grandfather almost holds him in place - that says it all - he's dumbstruck. He wears the same stupid expression he had when she revealed to the world her powers in an icy display during the party at her coronation.

"I have to go." Elsa manages, "Back to Arendelle."

"You can't travel like this, it's unsafe for you. And will attract predators. You'll have to birth here - you and the babe will be fine." Adella pats Elsa's hand in a manner which is intended to be comforting, in all likelihood, as Ariel offers a look somewhere between excitement and pity. It all has the opposite effect, making Elsa want to protest further but another wave of pains stills Elsa's voice, and she's whisked off as Hans' mother assures her that the babe will have taken whatever form she has.

* * *

 

"I want to be with her." Hans says, again. His chest aches in desperation.  No one is listening and he's utterly powerless to change that.

It makes no sense to keep him away from Elsa, Hans thinks...and for not the first time. He's been forced to pace the damn hallway and stare at a shut door.

Hours later, and as luck would have it, he hears Elsa very distinctly growl his name. Luck is a funny thing. That may not have been the good fortune kind luck he's hoped for at all, for the poor little midwife who's peering out into the corridor looks extremely unhappy.

"Sire?"

Hans stops, "Yes?"

"Her Majesty, well, this is a very trying time for her. You see," the mermaid babbles on, clutching the door not allowing him entrance, "especially as she'd not anticipated the glorious birth of her babe - _your babe_. The babe. At this time."

"Yes." Out with it, already.

"Queen Elsa is, well. I don't know quite how to put it delicately, sire." She bobs a sort of curtsy and starts, "Her majesty is requesting -"

The most beautiful sound Hans has ever heard interrupts the midwife. It is a tiny, shrill little cry which rings out in the room behind the the midwife. A beat, then the cry picks up for a breath and halts.

The mermaid forgets herself and darts back into the room, Hans follows. He halts at the doorframe, clutching the stone for support.

It's better than he ever dreamed it would be, the sight of Elsa, spent from birth with their babe carefully cradled to her breast. Elsa looks so besotted at the babe, who's wrapped in blankets as a tiny bundle. She's studying the little face with awe and wonder, completely oblivious to the commotion around her as the midwives tidy up and prepare for Hans to visit. Hans is weak, overwhelmed with the enormity of it all.

"Come meet him, Hans. He's _perfect_. The future king of Arendelle."

A son. "Christian?"

Elsa doesn't look away from the babe, "Yes, I think Christian is perfect."

Hans has no earthly idea how he's come to sit beside Elsa on the bed, nor how he managed to take the babe, their babe, into his trembling hands, but he has. There is a shock of blonde atop the tiny round head that Hans can't stop stroking, then Hans realizes he's babbling something about fingers and toes.

"I'm a mermaid at the moment so no toes - just a fin. I absolutely blame you for being unable to count toes."  Elsa chuckles lazily, clearly exhausted. "Just unwrap him."

"Oh." Hans blinks, "What if I can't wrap him back up?"

Elsa's smile is so incredibly radiant and beautiful as she reaches over and starts pulling back the blanket. Absolutely perfect, tiny fingers curl into clenched fists as they are exposed and Hans blurts out, "I'm not worthy of this - of you. Of him. I'm not -"

Elsa cuts him off with a press of tender lips, so soft and sweet Hans almost sobs. "You are, because I love you."


End file.
